


Writing on the Wall

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [47]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, Homophobic Language, M/M, Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Safe space, Rick can't figure it out, more than one punch is thrown, the prom candidates declare, clubs with "dubious agendas", Miles Brown (still) behaving badly, not all vandals can spell, another PFLAG movie night, everything's fine (or not)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **david_of_oz** for his continued help in copyediting this work!

Shannon frowns at the paperwork on her desk. At the beginning of the year, the idea of having one of her planning periods first thing on Friday morning had sounded all right; now, she’s ready for a new schedule. The bell’s just barely rung, and she’s already wishing she could just go coach a volleyball game or something with the sophomore girls next period. 

“Coach Beiste?” There’s a tentative knock on the doorway to accompany the soft greeting, and when Shannon looks up, Mandy is standing there, her free hand clutching a pamphlet and a few tears threatening to leak out of her eyes. 

“Mandy?” Shannon rises to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

“I went to get my books for biology,” Mandy says haltingly, “and this was in my locker, on top of everything. I guess… I guess someone pushed it through the vents.” She smooths out the pamphlet, and Shannon can see now that there’s a bright green Post-It note on the top that says simply _for you and your brother_.

It’s like a sick parody, Shannon thinks, as she looks at the pamphlet. “Parents & Friends of Ex-Gays & Gays,” it says at the top, and it doesn’t take long for Shannon to figure out that this organization advocates for conversion therapy or the like. 

“Educating the public about sexual orientation” isn’t something that Shannon thinks she wants to see, either, and she scowls, marching over to her desk and depositing it in the bottom drawer. “I’m sorry, Mandy,” she says, shaking her head. 

“I don’t understand why they _care_!” Mandy bursts out. “My brother doesn’t go to school here anymore. He doesn’t even live in Ohio anymore! Why can’t they leave me alone?”

“That, I don’t know,” Shannon admits. “I think it’s because they’re scared, though. What exactly they’re scared of, I haven’t figured out.”

“I hate it,” Mandy mutters, swiping her hand across her eyes. “I hate how they act like I should hate my brother, like I shouldn’t still treat him like my brother.” She sighs and sinks into one of the chairs in front of Shannon’s desk. “Can I just stay here for a little while?” she asks sadly. 

“Sure, kid.” Shannon pulls out a pad of passes and writes one out for Mandy’s first period class. It’s not the action she wants to take, but it’s an action she can take, the one thing she can do for her right now. 

 

They’ve been sitting in the back of Chang’s girlfriend’s car for a few minutes before Rick can really muster up anything to say about the whole situation.

“You figure Brown’s gonna be alright?” Rick asks Alicia. 

Alicia rolls her eyes. “I think it’s surprising Miles hasn’t mouthed off to the wrong person years before now. He’ll be fine.”

“That has gotta be one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen,” Rick says, keeping his voice low. “That was messed up.”

“Well, luckily it didn’t go far,” Alicia say practically. “I don’t know what either of them were thinking.”

“Yeah, what was that even about?” Rick asks.

Alicia looks at him strangely. “Really, Daniel?”

“What?” Rick asks. “Why? What _was_ it about?”

“Oh, Daniel.” Alicia shakes her head and squeezes his hand. “You’ll figure it out.”


	2. Perspectives on Punching Miles Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another successful PFLAG movie night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Moderate non-graphic violence
> 
> [The (ever-growing) Miles Brown playlist](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5F0D2D0CDE28A7EC)
> 
> [Playlist tracks for RW 3x27 & 3x28](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5A42EB7425A965E3)

**I. Dave**

“I gotta admit, I’m not so sure about this cheerleader movie,” Dave says as they drive towards the Hudson-Hummel house. 

“Me either,” Casey says. “Do you think it’ll be. Um. They won’t show. _You know_. Right?”

“We’re still a school–sponsored club,” Dave answers more confidently than he actually feels. “Surely not.”

“Just, girls,” Casey says, and makes a face. “I guess probably they feel the same way about us, though, right?”

Dave chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Some girls are okay. As long as they are dressed. And, well, mostly just Brittany. And sometimes Santana. Alicia’s okay, too.”

“Three out of millions,” Dave jokes. “Yeah. So, uh. During the other one. We’re gonna, I don’t know. Get a snack or something. Just during one scene, I mean.”

Casey’s quiet for a moment. “Okay, David. Just tell me when we should get snacks.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dave nods, relieved he didn’t have to explain more. It was worth the Googling and everything to avoid a problem. PFLAG needs a drama–free movie night. 

“So, I liked that macaroni and cheese tonight. We have to put it on the chart later,” Casey says. “Before we forget.”

“Yeah,” Dave nods. “Though it was pretty salty. That was weird.”

“The noodles didn’t have that slimy feeling, though. That was nice.”

“Wonder if it’s because they didn’t cook as long?”

“Do you think we need to add a column for recommended cooking time versus how long we actually cook it? And then do it twice? And compare, do you think?” Casey asks. 

“Nah, I don’t want to have to eat some of them twice,” Dave grins as they park along Eureka. “Do you?”

Casey shrugs. “I could if I had to. It’s for _science_ , David.”

“Maybe we should have some finalists and only do it for those.” Dave climbs out of the truck and shuts the door, mentally groaning when he recognizes the Versa parking behind them. 

“Oh, there’s Miles and Rick and Alicia,” Casey says. “Rick looks nervous. Poor Rick and all these movies!”

“Oh, I figured it was because his girlfriend’s brother drives them everywhere,” Dave shrugs, stopping behind Casey at the head of the driveway. “I mean, he gets lesbians. Straight guys like lesbians, or something.”

“Ew,” Casey mutters, with a dramatic shudder. 

“Cherry!” Brown announces when he notices them. “You excited about the movies?” He gives Dave a look. “Shep.”

“I don’t know if I’m excited about the movies,” Casey says. “I’ll let you know after.”

“There’s more people here this time!” Alicia announces. “At least, it looks like there is.”

“Hey, everybody,” Rick says. “So. Movies.”

“Should be interesting,” Dave shrugs and rings the doorbell. 

 

Dave decides about fifteen minutes into _But I’m A Cheerleader_ that he doesn’t like the movie. When he looks over at Casey, it’s pretty obvious that he feels the same way, because he looks back at Dave and grimaces dramatically. The movie only gets worse, though, and Dave wishes he could manage to sleep through it or something. Every time he looks over at Casey, Casey makes a bigger show of looking disgusted and dying some kind of lesbian–related death. All the girls seem to enjoy it, though, more or less, and a few of the guys look like they really enjoyed it. 

The second movie is at least more interesting, and without any lesbians, for which Dave is grateful. When the two guys start undressing each other, Dave’s unsurprised to see some of the straight guys leaving the room. _Cowards_ , he can’t help thinking. _We sat through the lesbians._

He is surprised by how much they show, though, and he’s not even sure what he says, just that he wishes he hadn’t said it out loud. The reason for that is sitting nearby, and of _course_ Brown has to start mouthing off. 

Weeks of self-control and months of therapy evaporate and before Dave can really process what he’s even doing or saying, Brown’s nose is dripping and Finn has Dave’s arm behind his back. Finn’s whispering something about calming down but all Dave’s focusing on is the bright red blood on Brown’s face and then his hand, dripping out steadily. Dave suddenly realizes that maybe that was kind of scary for Casey, and he looks over at him, but Casey isn’t looking at him. 

Dave still isn’t sure exactly what happened, but finds himself on the sidewalk anyway, walking mechanically towards his truck. He’s aware enough to know that he’s damn lucky he snapped somewhere other than school. Finn and Kurt just tossed him out—well, really, Finn and Puck, but it’s all about the same—but things would have been a lot worse at school. 

Unlocking his truck, Dave climbs in and drives home almost on autopilot, thankful that his dad is already in bed. Staring at his face in the mirror makes him grimace and head back down the stairs for a bag of frozen vegetables, then sit down at his desk. He owes a few apologies— _not_ to Miles—and he knows someone’ll get Casey home sooner or later, so he decides to start there, pulling out a piece of paper and writing out a quick note. 

When he finishes the note, he folds it in half and puts it in the middle of Casey’s pillow, retreating to his own room quickly. He returns the vegetables to the freezer and takes two ibuprofen, then heads back upstairs to crawl into his bed. He doesn’t really need to see anyone else tonight, not even Casey.

He startles awake in the middle of the night and listens carefully for a moment before starting to roll over. He jumps again when he realizes that Casey is lying in his bed, curled up in a small ball. One of Casey’s arms is stretched out slightly, his fingertips grazing against Dave’s shirt. Dave sighs and lets himself relax again. The world will still be there in the morning. 

 

**II. Casey**

If Casey had a chance to make a wish and have it come true, that wish would be _please David, be happy again, please forget all my stupid question, forget Miles, and just be happy again._ Of course, if he had a second wish, that wish would be _and please oh please, Miles, keep your mouth shut for just this once._

Casey doesn't believe in wishes, though. Life is decidedly unlike a fairy tale, especially whenever Casey has an opportunity to mess things up, and has he ever messed things up. His dad always told him he asked too many questions. He told Casey to shut his mouth if he knew what was good for him, but obviously Casey doesn't know what's good for him, because he just talks and talks and asks and _asks_ , and David finally sees what Mick always saw, Casey and his stupid questions, too many, too _enthusiastic_ , and what was he doing asking Miles all those questions, anyway?

He wanted to know how it all works, this gay thing, and Miles—whatever it is that he is with his ‘loving all the people’—at least might have some idea of how somebody might go about all of it. How do you let somebody know you like them like that? How do you let somebody know that you want to kiss them or do _other things_ with them? Casey just feels so floundering and dumb about all of it, and Miles never has seemed to mind Casey's questions, but then, neither did David, before. Casey, it seems, can push anybody, even the very best of people, to a breaking point.

All Casey wanted from this movie night was for it to pass peacefully, undo some of the damage he did last time with his big stupid freakout, and it seems to work at first. He makes faces and flails about over the lesbians, and David laughs at him a little and everything feels good, but then the other movie starts and David and Miles are at it again, Casey can't understand why they are doing this. Why does Miles have to poke at David like that? Why is David so mad at Miles?

Then there’s the sex scene. Was this the scene where they were supposed to go and get a snack? Casey would kind of like to sneak a look at David to see if maybe he forgot about that, but instead, he just sits very, very still. Maybe David will forget Casey is sitting there until the sex part of the movie is over, and then it’ll just be way more comfortable. Ignoring the existence of stuff like sex seems to work out best for everybody.

And then David says something about the guys in the movie being _really_ naked, and Miles, well, Casey doesn’t know _why_ Miles says what he says. Why bring up that video tape thing? _Why_ , Miles? Before Casey can even react, David goes flying off the sofa and Miles is laid out on the floor, blood pouring out of his nose, and Casey doesn’t even have time to feel woozy over the blood before Miles is trying to stand up and David hits him _again_.

David shouts at Miles, and it’s just so awful. Casey can’t even make sense of something like that coming out of David, something that sounds so horribly, so terribly familiar, but coming out of David’s mouth, which is just _wrong_. Casey feels frozen in place. He can’t look at David. He can’t look at Miles with blood pouring down his face. Casey knows he should say something, because this is _his_ fault, David is so obviously still mad at him and at Miles about Casey’s stupid questions, but he just can’t say anything.

Miles tells him he’ll call or text, which maybe Miles should have just left without even _talking_ to Casey, and then David goes, too, without saying _anything_ to Casey. All Casey can do is apologize, say how sorry he is, though he can’t explain _why_ , and they keep saying it’s not his fault. They’re wrong; it is.

After the movie is over, Finn narrates Casey out to Finn’s truck, and instead of driving him to the Karofsky house, Finn takes Casey to Pat’s where they both end up with frosted doughnuts and lattes. Casey sips his latte and nibbles at his doughnut, even though he’s not at all hungry, and Finn keeps smiling at him in a way that looks sort of sympathetic and understanding.

“You know,” Finn says, in between bites of his doughnut, “people just sometimes do really weird stuff when they love somebody.”

Casey doesn’t know what to say to that, because the only person he’s ever loved is David, and if Finn’s about to start talking about girls, Casey really isn’t going to be particularly useful in the conversation. He nods, so Finn knows he’s listening.

“And sometimes _they_ don’t even know why they do the stuff they do,” Finn continues. “It just gets crazy and then next thing you know, everybody’s yelling and maybe somebody throws a punch or maybe somebody ends up with a face full of pop because, you know, when you care about people you don’t always act rationally or whatever.”

Now Casey’s really confused, because it’s possible Finn is talking about David, which doesn’t make any sense, or it’s possible he’s talking about himself, which still, honestly, doesn’t make a lot of sense. He nods again and tries to make a little affirmative, but noncommittal, noise. If Finn is talking about himself, Casey doesn’t want to sound dismissive, but if he’s talking about David, boy does he have things mixed up.

Finn just keeps on talking. “And sometimes people feel, like, _confused_ about how they feel about people, or maybe they feel like maybe they’re not supposed to feel the way they feel, and then they get pissed off about stuff, and then they—”

Casey’s phone rings and he’s never been happier to have a conversation interrupted by a ringtone. Ever. “Oh, I’m sorry, Finn. I should, um.”

“Oh, yeah! I figured somebody might be looking for you,” Finn says, so Casey pulls the phone out of his pocket and answers it without checking who’s even calling.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cherry. You make it home alright?”

Oh. It’s Miles. Perfect. “No. I’m at Pat’s with Finn.”

“Yeah, my sister said Hudson was gonna take you home, since they gave Shep the boot, too, after he went all Hulk on me.”

“ _Miles_ ,” Casey sighs, and Finn looks up at Casey with an odd look on his face. “Please don’t, okay?”

“Don’t what? I’m not doing anything, ’cept calling to check on you. Figured you might be upset about that little display back at Kurt’s.” Miles sounds funny, which Casey supposes isn’t too surprising, considering the amount of blood that was coming out of his nose when he left Kurt and Finn’s house.

“No, I’m fine,” Casey says. “I’m sorry, though. Really sorry.”

“Shit, Cherry, you didn’t do anything. Knock it off with the sorries, will you?”

“I think he’s still mad about me asking you all that stuff before spring break,” Casey tries to explain. “But you shouldn’t have said the video thing, Miles.”

“Well, if he had such a problem with that sorta talk, he shouldn’t have said it to begin with,” Miles says. “He went there first.”

“If I hadn’t asked all those questions—”

“Cherry, I _told_ you. You ask all the questions you want.”

“Oh, Miles,” Casey sighs. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright. You be sure you do that.”

“Okay, Miles. I’m hanging up now.” Casey ends the call and looks at Finn apologetically. “Sorry. Miles was, well. I don’t know what Miles was doing. Not now, not earlier. Not, well, ever, really.”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “That’s, uh. It’s just a mystery, I guess.”

They finish their doughnuts without Finn going on any more about love or whatever it was he was talking about before, and Finn drops Casey off and waits for him to let himself in before pulling away. The house is dark and quiet. Paul’s probably been in bed for a few hours, and David’s lights are off, too, which is probably for the best, since Casey doesn’t imagine David really wants to see him right now.

Casey doesn’t even turn on his bedroom light, just gets changed into his sleeping clothes in the dark, so he doesn’t notice the note until he puts his head down on his pillow and feels paper. He turns on the lamp and unfolds the paper, reading the words in a shakier–than–normal version of David’s hand writing.

_Case—_

_sorry I lost control like that, it was inappropriate and obviously I still need to work on my impulse control issues, I know that probably made you uncomfortable and that was totally not my intent_

_Dave_

Casey reads and rereads the note, running his finger along the words, tracing his own name and the funny–shaped “D” in David’s name. David isn’t mad at him; David feels _bad_. Casey carefully refolds the note and then tucks it inside the book on his nightstand, before turning off the lamp and trying to fall asleep. Casey doesn’t fall asleep, though. He just lies there thinking about David yelling and Miles bleeding and Finn’s weird, rambling talk about love, and how all of them seem to be missing the larger point of how this is kind of all Casey’s fault for asking Miles all those questions.

More often than not—in fact, more often than not enough that it might almost be considered _always_ —David comes in at night to check on him and ends up crashing out there on Casey’s bed with him. Casey knows he’s a loud sleeper. He has bad dreams and he tries to be quiet, he really does, but it’s hard when he’s asleep to keep himself from making noises. He just sleeps so much better with David there, but probably David won’t come in and check on him tonight, because David obviously feels bad about what happened. As upsetting as it was to see David haul off and punch Miles like that, and as terrible as it was for David to yell and Miles to bleed all over the place, it actually feels worse to think about David having gone to bed thinking that Casey’s upset with him.

Maybe David needs Casey to go check on _him_ , instead. Casey quietly gets out of bed and even more quietly crosses the hall to David’s bedroom. David seems to be sound asleep, so that’s good at least. Casey climbs up onto David’s bed and curls up next to him, not touching him, just being there. It’s a good place to be and hopefully David won’t mind terribly if he wakes up and finds Casey there.

 

**III. Miles Brown**

“So, how gay do you think the movies are gonna be this time?” Rick asks, from where he and Alicia are sitting in the back of Miles’ car, and isn’t _that_ getting a little old already?

“Pretty damn gay, Foots,” Miles says. “Might be so gay that even _you_ walk out of there gay. You may want to rethink this.”

“Hush,” Alicia orders. “And, Daniel, I’m sure they’ll be enjoyable.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll enjoy at least one of ’em,” Miles says, mostly to himself. “But which one? Well, that’s gonna be the deciding factor, isn’t it? You be sure to keep me posted, Foots.”

“Brown, sometimes I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rick mumbles. Miles pulls up in front of Kurt and Hudson’s house, parking behind Karofsky’s ridiculously large truck.

“Look, Cherry’s already here. Shep, too, but I’m still mad at him.” Miles waits for Rick or Alicia to ask him _why_ so he can list off all the ways in which Karofsky has been pissing him off lately, but neither one of them obliges him. What good are they?

Karofsky looks none too glad to see him, but Casey lights up, which is awfully rewarding. At least somebody around here has some taste. After everybody greets everybody else and Kurt Hummel waves his big brass balls around for a little while, they all go find place to sit for the movie. Karofsky’s all kinds of selfish and sticks Casey in the corner of the sofa next to him, so nobody else can even sit by Casey for conversation or anything. Alicia and Rick sit down on the other end, and normally Miles would plop himself down near them to chaperone, but he’s not in any kind of mood to sit by Karofsky.

Instead, Miles sits on one of those big pillows somebody, probably Kurt, has set out all over the floor. At least this way, he can make conversation with Casey if the movies don’t live up to expectations, since it doesn’t seem like Karofsky’s gonna be big on the chit-chat. Miles doesn’t know what’s gotten into him lately, but dude’s gotten surlier and more sensitive than ever, and poor Casey’s getting the brunt of it. It’s good that Miles is there to deflect some of the pissiness, because better him than poor little Cherry.

As they get started with the movies, Miles realizes how sad it is that most of the people there are probably gonna find one or the other of the movies a little off-putting. Not everybody can have the same sort of appreciation for people in all their exciting combinations, he supposes, but it is a damn shame. The cheerleader movie’s not particularly titillating, but then, who _hasn’t_ seen cheerleaders making out at this point?

When the cheerleader movie’s over, all the straight boys look giddy and all the gay boys look traumatized, and Miles just wonders if maybe they couldn’t find a way to combine lesbians and queers into one movie so that everybody can be happy. Or unhappy. At least the cheerleader one was funny; he’s not so sure about what _Latter Days_ is supposed to be about, other than it has a Mormon, which doesn’t promise a lot of comedy right there. Hopefully nobody dies or has something horrible happen to him, because the last thing Cherry needs is some movie getting him all upset again. That was a sad, sad sight, him crying like that at the last movie night, and maybe the goal oughta be to make sure that doesn’t happen again.

“This movie come with any warnings any of us should be aware of?” Miles asks, just so that anybody who might need to not watch certain parts of movies can be elsewhere for those parts.

“Sex,” Kurt starts explaining, “and—”

“We’ve got it covered,” Karofsky says, before Kurt can say what else is in the movie. Alright, Karofsky’s on that, at least. He probably doesn’t want Casey crying any more than Miles does.

“Okay, cool. That’s cool,” Miles says, and then he has a little laugh over those straight boys getting themselves all worked up over the sex. Too bad for the straight boys, too, because that sweet little Mormon missionary is _fine_ , and Miles says as much. The other’s not bad, either, even if he needs a little bit more chin.

When those boys start stripping down, the mass straight boy exodus to the kitchen starts, and if that’s not the funniest damn thing, Miles doesn’t know what is. What’s even more interesting is who _doesn’t_ disappear to the kitchen, because Hudson’s finding this movie a little more interesting than Miles would have expected.

Then Karofsky says something stupid about how naked they are, and that does explain why he hasn’t managed to get himself and Casey to the party yet, since he doesn’t seem to get that you’ve gotta unwrap the presents before you play with them. Maybe he oughta be giving Casey less shit about asking questions and start asking a few of his own.

“That’s generally how the whole sex thing works, Shep,” Miles says to him. “Maybe _you_ need me to video tape it or something.”

Miles barely has a chance to process that Karofsky’s come flying off the sofa at him before his face is exploding and he’s seeing stars because Karofsky punched him in his goddamn nose! Miles has just enough time to shout “Shit, Shep!” and try to blink his eyes clear before Karofsky’s screaming something at him and hits him in the goddamn nose _again_ , knocking Miles back onto the floor, blood already starting to pour down his face.

Hudson’s up and holding Karofsky by the arm, which means Miles has a chance to get in his own punch, connecting with the side of Karofsky’s face before Puckerman snatches him up by the wrist. Miles finds himself ejected from the premises in short order, holding his nose to stop it from bleeding all over himself. He just hopes Karofsky manages to get himself under control before he ends up snapping at Casey, too.

Miles drives himself home and goes straight to the kitchen to look for some kind of ice pack.

“Miles? That you?” His Ma walks into the kitchen and shakes her head. “What’d you say now?”

“Why do you think I said something?” Miles says. “My own mother thinks the worst of me, too.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“She or Foots is gonna call me after the movie’s done. I’ll go fetch ’em back from Kurt’s house.”

“Are you still welcome on their street?” Ma asks, like she’s genuinely wondering about the answer.

“ _Ma!_ ” Miles says. “It’s not like I got into it with Kurt or Hudson! I didn’t even throw the first punch. Or the second one. That was all Shep, him and his temper and his big meaty fists.”

“Hmm. Well, keep that ice pack on your nose, Miles.”

“That’s what I’m doing, Ma. Geez.” Miles shakes his head. “Everybody always acting like I’m the bad guy.”

“I know better than that. I raised you. I _know_ you probably are,” Ma shoots back.

“Well, if I’m the villain, I learned it from the master,” Miles says. “I just hope Cherry gets home safely. He shouldn’t be riding around town with a maniac.”

Miles’ Ma doesn’t have anything to say about that, though she does give him one of her looks. She better watch it, because Alicia’s starting to make that selfsame face and one of these days, the two of them are gonna look at each other like that at the same time and the universe’ll implode. Miles just heads on upstairs to get himself cleaned up, and it might be one of the only times when he’s not thrilled about what he sees in the mirror. Could be worse, though, and even though it looks like he’s gonna end up with a black eye, he can probably rock that look, too.

After a little bit, Miles decides he should probably make sure that Casey made it home alright, and that Karofsky didn’t drive both of them into a ditch in a rage or something like that. Miles kind of thought Casey might be a little more sympathetic, ask about his nose or something, but he’s probably still all shaken up. Kid starts apologizing, though, and that’s not okay, because none of this is Casey’s fault. He didn’t have anything to do with it. Casey starts defending Karofsky, of course, ’cause that’s just how he is, only ever seeing anybody’s good side. At least it’s Hudson taking him home, no danger there… though maybe Miles should try some casual observation of Hudson; that whole movie thing was a little too interesting.

Miles tries calling Casey a couple times on Sunday, but the Karofskys do all that church stuff, so Casey’s probably got his phone turned off or something. Too bad, because Miles was gonna invite him down to the center later. Instead, Miles goes by himself, and that works out pretty well. It’s a nice day to make a new friend.


	3. 3x28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more than one punch is thrown, the prom candidates declare, clubs with "dubious agendas", undress rehearsals, not all vandals can spell, another PFLAG movie night,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyediting by the delightful **david_of_oz**!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Playlist for 3x28 "Writing on the Wall"](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCA8E06D9B4E6EF10)
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: This chapter contains moderate non-graphic violence.**

Puck stifles another yawn as he scribbles out a note to stick to the refrigerator. He’s getting a little too used to sleeping with Kurt, and over the break, a little too used to being able to catch up on sleep during the day. He finishes writing and rereads his words.

_Work tonight, be home around 9:15. Keep Hannah up, would you? Need to talk to her about a few things._

Yeah, he needs to talk to her about what she said to Stevie, not so much because he thinks the town of Lima is going to believe his eight year old sister and broadcast her words, but because the next school board meeting is next week, and she might need to learn to keep her mouth shut. Not for his sake, but for hers. 

 

The halls are loud as he and Kurt walk into the building, separating to their first period classes; lots of conversations about spring break. Puck manages to overhear discussions of tanning, tanning beds, Cleveland, and a stray mention of Chicago, all without really trying. 

“Hey, thanks, by the way,” Sam greets Puck when he walks into history.

“Yeah?” Puck raises his eyebrows, wondering why he’s being thanked.

“Yesterday. I mean, you know. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut, so thanks for not flipping out.”

Puck laughs. “Nah, it’s cool,” Puck assures him. “Actually, I was thinking. I mean, we don’t want to tell them to lie, but.” He shrugs. “We don’t know what kind of shit is going to go down.”

“That’s true,” Sam says slowly. “It probably would be better for them not to talk about it. We’re involved, and some of the opposition won’t care how we are.”

“Yeah, pretty much. It sucks, but they’re just little kids still.”

Finn walks into class at that point, sliding into his seat. “Hey, guys. What you talking about?”

“Hannah and Stevie. And the school board.” Puck shrugs.

“Were they sitting in a tree?” Finn asks. “Hannah and Stevie, not the school board.”

“There are two of us, you know,” Sam says mildly. “You may be tall, but I suspect we can take you.”

“He’s got a point,” Puck nods. “Wait until Pretzel’s eight, then we’ll talk.”

“Anyway, you should let Stevie know to back off. When Hannah’s eighteen, she’s my arranged marriage bride, so, you know. Tell him that,” Finn says. 

“What?” Sam shakes his head. “You people are _strange_.”

“Hey, I can’t keep an eye on her from six hundred miles away,” Puck points out. “Had to do something.”

“It’s gonna be one of those celibate marriages. Separate bedrooms. Separate houses, maybe.” Finn nods along with his words. 

“You can see why I approved.”

Sam laughs. “Yeah, definitely. You think I can figure something like that out for Stevie and Stacy both?”

“You could try Artie,” Finn says. “He’s smart and, you know, you could take him in a fight.”

“True, true. Can’t hurt to ask, right?” 

“Our sisters might not like us later, but we’ll just have to take that chance. Good luck finding someone for Stevie,” Puck jokes. 

“All right,” Mrs. Vey’s voice breaks in. “Who can tell me more about the 1918 epidemic?”

 

“Guess what I heard!” Rachel announces, bursting into the choir room. Puck wasn’t sure where she’d gone after English, but obviously it hadn’t taken her too long. 

“What is it, girl?” Mercedes asks, looking away from her conversation with Sam. 

“Some people are starting to announce their candidacies for Prom Queen and King!” Rachel answers, breathless. Her eyes flick to Quinn for a moment, then to Finn, before returning to Mercedes. “There’s only one confirmed candidate for Queen so far.”

“It’s not me,” Kurt says dryly. “Having two crowns that are identical does not interest me in the slightest.”

“No, it’s not,” Rachel agrees, looking unperturbed. “It’s Lauren Zizes!”

“Really?” Mercedes looks incredulous. “I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Are any of us running this year?” Tina asks. 

“I’d rather die,” Finn says. “Violently and horribly.”

“But you did agree to hold the scepter.” Kurt blinks innocently and then very theatrically eyes each of the other guys in the room. “One of these four has to be my Queen, after all.”

“I’ll hold your scepter, still. I just don’t want to be Prom Anything,” Finn says. 

“Are you running for Prom King?” Artie asks. 

“Ooh, do you want to be the Queen?” Kurt smirks. “And I did think that a set would be lovely.”

“Wait, you want—” Sam stops and grins. “Yeah, that’s awesome. I think I’m going to decline, though.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Artie says. “Last year’s prom was traumatic enough. I don’t think I’m up for the campaign.”

“I’m obviously out because of how I’m his brother. And also because of how I already said no,” Finn says. “Guess that leaves Mike or Puck.”

“Oh no,” Tina says through a fit of giggles. “You can’t borrow my man, Kurt. No way. Not unless he and I are a package deal.” She winks at Kurt, who tries to cover up the vaguely horrified look that crosses his face. 

“You heard my lady,” Mike says, sighing deeply. “Noah Puckerman, it’s up to you to defend the honor of New Directions by standing as our lone Prom Queen candidate.”

“No, if Puckerman and Kurt are running, maybe I should step up for King.” Santana exchanges a grin with Kurt. “My girl would look bitchin’ with that Queen’s crown.”

“I’d be a much prettier Queen than Puck,” Brittany says. “Sorry Puck. It’s true.”

Puck shakes his head. “I feel insulted, Britt. As I told Finn once, I could wear a dress to school and make it cool.”

“It’s true. He did say that,” Finn says. “I dunno how accurate it is, but he did say it.” He looks at Puck critically. “I’m not sure how your arms are gonna look in a strapless dress, dude. Sorry.”

“I was going to go with something _classy_ ,” Puck says, trying to look injured. “We don’t want my pecs falling out.”

“So, let me get this straight. Or, well, _not_ straight,” Sam says. “Brittany and Santana are running for Prom Queen and King, against Puck and Kurt.”

Santana and Brittany turn their heads slightly to look at Puck and Kurt, Santana smirking slightly, and Kurt and Puck nod slowly. “Game on, girls,” Kurt says. 

“You better bring your A game, bitches,” Santana replies, “because this is going to be epic.”

“They’ll have to glue the crown on you, Noah,” Rachel suddenly says. “Otherwise it’ll fall off!”

“Well, that’s definitely a reason not to run, Puck,” Finn says. “Glue–on crowns. You sure you’re up for that?”

“Hey, if my Nana can make the damn yarmulke stay on, I think I can balance a crown for an hour or two. Or are you saying Nana’s more badass than me?”

“Didn’t that involve a lot of slapping?” Finn asks. “Is Kurt gonna be slapping the crown back on you all night? That, I’d pay to see.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Puck says, frowning. “At least the crown is meant to go on top of the head.” Also, the silver goes with more than the yarmulke, but whatever.

“Oh, Finn, you need to tell them about the ray-guns,” Kurt says suddenly.

“Oh, yeah! The ray guns!” Finn leaps to his feet and stands in front of the room, probably the better to gesture adamantly at everyone. “So, here’s my thought. We should all wear matching black suits, like in Men in Black, right? And sunglasses! Also, ray guns, preferably silver.”

“It’s debatable that we might be Blues brothers. Or possibly the Secret Service, but that would require less ray gun and more earpiece.” Kurt smirks a little. 

“Earpieces would be easier to find,” Finn says. “We could be their majesties’ Secret Service! Like James Bond. Only American.”

“You and your spy thing.” Kurt shakes his head. 

“That’s all Burt, dude. He’s got that boxed set, remember?” 

“Sure. All Dad.” Kurt shakes his head. “Anyway, ladies, I had thought perhaps that some of you at least might like to go vintage for your dresses.”

“Tell me more,” Tina says immediately. 

“You know no one’s going to turn up wearing the same dress, for starters,” Kurt points out. “And there are some exquisite vintage pieces out there.”

“I like this idea,” Tina nods. “Don’t you, Rachel? Mercedes?”

“It has its appeal,” Rachel says slowly. “And finding the right dress could be a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, I’m in,” Mercedes says definitely. “Quinn, you should do it too. Some of those ’50s dresses would be great on you.”

“I think I only need one dress,” Brittany says. “Fifty’s probably too many.”

“Yeah, we’re in,” Santana agrees. “It’ll be all vintage up in this joint.”

“Excellent,” Kurt smiles slightly. “We’re having a very productive rehearsal.”

“Wait!” Rachel says suddenly. “What about dates? If we’re all going as a group. What if we have a date outside the club?”

“Do you? Have a date outside the club?” Quinn asks. 

“I… might,” Rachel answers after a pause.

“Does anyone _actually_ have a date outside the club?” Quinn asks.

Finn raises his hand. “Uh. Me.”

“You _do_?” Rachel looks injured.

“Yup.”

“She’s an excellent dancer, too,” Puck nods. “I’d say she’s a sweet girl, but she’s more fun than sweet.” He smirks a little. “If you know what I mean.”

Rachel looks particularly stunned and swallows visibly before speaking. “Regardless. What I said stands. Are we going as a group complete with any dates? Dinner? Transportation?”

“Can we _not_ go to Breadstix?” Kurt asks plaintively.

“What if the guys cooked dinner for the girls?” Mike says, and Tina looks surprised enough that Puck’s pretty sure she didn’t put him up to it. “All the guys, for all the girls,” he adds firmly.

“Ooh, yes!” Mercedes says, nudging Sam. “No ordering anything, boys!”

Kurt looks thoughtful. “It has possibilities.”

“I could try another round of my fucking mac ’n’ cheese,” Finn offers. “With a hot pad this time.”

“Pâté?” Puck says under his breath to Kurt, who presses his lips together and then shoots Puck a smile. 

“I think this is perfect,” Santana says. “First we get dinner served to us, then we get crowned like the royalty we are.”

“We should chip in for one of those stretch Hummers!” Sam says enthusiastically. 

“We could all fit,” Puck agrees.

“Probably the only way,” Rachel concedes. “Excellent! We can coordinate exact locations and times as prom approaches! And ladies, gentlemen, do keep us posted on your campaigns!”

 

Puck pauses on the sidewalk outside the building. There's not a lot of people out, but the night is clear and finally feels like spring. He takes a few deep breaths, enjoying it as much as he can, before he concludes he might be keeping Hannah awake, and then heads inside.

When he unlocks the door and pushes inside, he can hear Hannah singing along with some music in her room, and Rina's sitting on the couch, watching a crime show – probably the same one as the week before. "Hey, Mom."

"Oh, Noah. Good, you're home." Rina looks up as he closes the door. "Hannah's still up. What's going on?"

Puck shrugs. "Maybe nothing. I just wanted to talk to her about the whole school board thing."

"Ahh. All right." Rina pauses and raises his voice. "Hannah! Come here!"

"What is it?" Hannah calls back. "Is Noah home?" She appears in the doorway and then grins. "You are!" She bounces into the room. "What's going on, Noah?"

"Hey, squirt." Puck gives her a brief hug and sits down on the sofa beside her. "I need to talk to you about something. I was talking to Stevie's brother yesterday, and he said you guys have talked about the school board stuff."

"We did!" Hannah agrees, then widens her eyes. "Was I not supposed to?"

"Well, I don't know," Puck admits. "It might not be a big deal, Hannah. But there are some people who aren't happy about what we're trying to do, and I guess I want to make sure no one's mean to you about it."

Hannah frowns, and Rina speaks up. "What do you mean, Noah?"

Puck shrugs. "There's been some talk, around school and I've overheard some people at Starbucks. I think most people genuinely don't care, and plenty are supportive, but it's the ones that aren't. I don't think it will be a problem at the elementary school, but."

"Oh." Rina sighs. "I see."

"So I shouldn't talk about it at all, or just only to Stevie?" Hannah asks. 

"Maybe just to Stevie," Puck finally settles on. "And only generally. Just, not everyone needs to know that the two of you both have a big brother working on it, okay?"

Hannah nods. "Okay! I can do that!"

"Also," Puck laughs. "Maybe no more listing all the gay people you know."

"I only… oops." Hannah looks sheepish. "I'm sorry, Noah! I didn't think!"

"It's okay," Puck assures her. "I mean, yeah, I'd prefer you not spread it around, but you've done a good job keeping it a secret."

"Okay." Hannah grins a little. "I'll try really hard, Noah. And I'll tell Stevie we shouldn't talk too much about the school board."

"Right," Puck nods. "Okay, bedtime, squirt."

Hannah heaves a loud sigh. "All right." She grumbles as she walks back to her room, turning off the light and climbing into her bed. 

"You really think there could be a problem?" Rina asks quietly. 

"I don't know. I know things happen at McKinley. I don't know what they'll be like for the elementary school kids. Just in case, though." Puck shrugs. "Probably nothing more than some words, if anything, but."

"Right," Rina nods, agreeing. "All right. Oh, I picked up that air mattress for you. I don't know what your timeline is."

"I'm supposed to meet with a couple of people Sunday afternoon that want to look at the furniture," Puck replies. "So we'll see."

"Okay. Good night, Noah."

"Night, Mom."

 

Puck is walking down the hall towards history, talking to Finn about how the cartoons Hannah watches just aren’t as good as the ones they used to watch, when he hears the first whisper. 

“Yeah, they were both in it.”

“I didn’t think either of them were gay.”

“ _Supposedly_ those meetings aren’t just for gay people.”

“Hey, are they talking about us?” Finn asks. “I think they’re talking about us!”

“They’ve accidentally outed themselves as watchers of the local news,” Puck snorts. “Did anyone actually watch it?”

“Burt watched it. He said Kurt sounded good and it seemed really fair.”

“Fair in a Fox News sort of way, or fair as in we like how she slanted it?” Puck asks, grinning. 

Finn shrugs. “I dunno. Whatever ‘fair’ is to Burt, I guess. Maybe it means it was long.”

“I guess.” Puck raises his eyebrows at a couple of sophomores who are staring at them. “She probably wanted to get as much screen time as possible, from what Tina said.”

“Hey, Hudson!” Someone shouts from down the hall. “You gay after all?”

“Why?” Finn shouts back. “You proposing?”

“Hell, no!” The voice calls again, and now Puck can tell it’s another one of those baseball players. “I’m no fag!”

“Hey, Puck,” Finn says, turning very calmly in Puck’s direction. “You think you can get my history homework for me?”

It takes Puck a moment to nod. “Sure. I’ll just tell Mrs. Vey you saw a cockroach, and being civic–minded, you were taking care of that.”

Finn grins at Puck, then turns and jogs down the hallway in the direction of the baseball player, who wisely turns and runs in the opposite direction. They both turn a corner and disappear. Puck shakes his head and keeps walking to history, greeting Brittany. 

“Hi, Britt.”

“Hi, Puck,” Brittany says. “You’re all alone this morning.”

“Yeah.” Puck jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Finn decided to take care of someone’s potty mouth.”

“Did he bring soap?”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly planned,” Puck concedes. “He might have to just use the soap in the bathrooms.”

“That could work. He might need a cup or something for that, though,” Brittany says. “Or he could just hold someone underneath the dispenser. That would work, too.”

Scarily or not, Puck can see Finn doing that. “Maybe so.”

Mrs. Vey starts class, looking questioningly at Puck when she notes Finn’s absence. “He’ll be a little late,” Puck shrugs. “Hallway.”

They’re fifteen minutes into class when Finn finally shows up, looking pretty pleased with himself despite the abrasion on his cheek. He hands Mrs. Vey a note, which she shakes her head while reading. “Really, Mr. Hudson!”

Finn grins and shrugs, then takes his seat. As soon as Mrs. Vey turns back towards the board, he leans over to Puck and says, “Totally got a detention. Totally worth it.”

“Did he?” Puck whispers back. 

“Yeah, wouldn’t say who started it,” Finn says, his grin widening. “I’m gonna miss glee after school today, though.”

“Guess we’ll have to suffer and perform tomorrow. Rough life.”

“Wasn’t gonna be that productive anyway, dude. Schue.”

“Yeah, well, he could have turned over a new leaf. For the third or fourth time.”

“Funnier things have happened,” Finn says. 

“Boys,” Mrs. Vey says. “I think Mr. Hudson’s been in enough trouble for it to still be this side of 9 am.”

Finn doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish as he turns back towards the front, and Puck just shakes his head. 

 

Instead of looking disgruntled or disapproving, Mrs. Strandberg seems almost delighted, her shoulders squared as she starts the class. “Good morning, class,” she says, her voice almost syrupy sweet. “I know that you, like I, are thankful for this day we have been given.”

No one answers her, and Kurt tilts his head, staring at her quizzically. _What the hell?_ he scribbles down on a piece of paper.

Puck shrugs and carefully writes underneath it. _No clue._

“It is important to let our individual lights shine in the darkness that is gathering over our community,” Mrs. Strandberg continues. “I know that despite what I have seen in our media outlets, it is not too late for all of you to be a part of the light, forsaking darkness.”

Puck sighs and rolls his eyes. Yep, she definitely watches the news. And judging by her attempts to be subtle as she looks towards the rear of the room, their faces were definitely recognizable. 

“I know that the administration has allowed many clubs to flourish, clubs with dubious agendas and clubs that encourage impractical ambitions. While the leadership of this school and this district must be held accountable as adults, you as students can cheerfully repudiate your elders and take a stand for morality and sensible outcomes!”

Kurt raises his hand slowly. “Mrs. Strandberg, if I may?” Puck frowns and pulls out his phone, silently setting it up to record, using voice memo.

“Of course.” Her voice is a bit colder. “Mr. Hummel, correct?”

“Yes. Mrs. Strandberg, I have been sitting in your classroom for five weeks. I have listened to your comments about a number of things. None of us in the room have countered your arguments or even hinted at disagreeing with you. Yes, I’m gay. Yes, I’m a part of the PFLAG group here as well as the glee club. And yes, I can tell that all of these things bother you deeply. But you are here as an educator to teach _physics_. Not to lecture us on your peculiar brand of morality.”

“Well!” Mrs. Strandberg looks surprised for half a moment before her face hardens. Puck puts his phone on top of the table and hopes it will pick up everything she says. “My morality is not a _brand_ as you call it, but an absolute truth, a standard against which _all_ will be judged! Your lifestyle choices speak against it! The most important thing I can teach all of you is not physics, but about the truth that will save your souls!”

“Are you saying that you consider it more important to preach to us about your religious beliefs, Mrs. Strandberg?” Kurt says, clearly enunciating each word.

“Yes!” Mrs. Strandberg says, the word bursting from her mouth. “The most important thing I can do is for you to repudiate your sinful ways! I—”

“That’s enough,” Kurt cuts her off, fixing her with a steely glare. He turns to Puck and smiles. “Did all of that record, Puck?”

“It _did_ ,” Puck says brightly. “Should we leave the class now and head for Principal Figgins’ office?” 

“Wha— What are you saying?” Now Mrs. Strandberg looks slightly frightened. “No! You can’t leave class! I will report you for an unexcused absence! Hand me that phone, Mr. Puckerman!”

Puck quickly shuts his phone and then shoves it deep in his pocket. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to frisk me. K, can you record that? Also, it’s password protected. Good luck with that, Mrs. Strandberg.”

She narrows her eyes as they hurriedly leave the classroom, the rest of the class grinning. Some are grinning openly, a few others hiding their smiles behind their hands. Puck just smirks at Mrs. Strandberg and closes the door behind them.

“You think that’s enough?” Puck asks quietly as they walk down the hall towards the offices. 

“Along with what we have from before?” Kurt nods. “I think so.” When they enter the office, he smiles at the secretary. “We have evidence of wrongdoing by a long-term substitute.” 

The secretary looks flustered and just opens the door, ushering them into Figgins’ office. 

“Mister Hummel and Mister Puckerman,” Figgins says, looking puzzled. “What brings you into my office today? Another visit from your journalist friend, Mister Hummel? Or is this related to the glee club?”

“Neither,” Puck answers for them, pulling out his phone. “But come to think of it, yeah, we could always call Connie Dean, couldn’t we, K?”

“That’s true. Ms. Dean is very motivated to investigate thoroughly,” Kurt nods. 

“And what precisely is it that Ms. Dean would need to be investigating?” Figgins asks. 

“We’ve had an interesting substitute for several weeks in our physics class,” Kurt says calmly. “She has some very definite opinions, and while she’s been circumspect previously, you might like to hear this.” Puck hits play on his phone, and the entire thing plays loudly, echoing around Figgins’ office. 

At first, Figgins seems confused about what he’s hearing, but as the conversation between Kurt and Mrs. Strandberg continues, his expression switches to dismay. As the recording ends, he frowns and drums the tips of his fingers on his desk. 

“That is a very troubling audio recording,” Figgins says. “Is this the entirety of the conversation?”

“I didn’t start recording at first,” Puck says, pulling on a sheepish look. “She was talking about repudiating bad stuff and being more moral. Kurt probably has notes on that. He has notes from a lot of things over the past few weeks.”  
“I have some previous recordings on my phone, as well,” Kurt nods. 

“Do you have these notes with you, Mister Hummel?”

Kurt nods and pulls out several pieces of paper, obviously copies of his originals, handing them to Figgins. Figgins thumbs through the papers, nodding his head. 

“The other students in your class will corroborate these accounts?” Figgins asks, finally.

“Yes,” Kurt assures him. 

“Can you make a copy of the audio recording as well?” 

“I can email it to you,” Puck offers, and he quickly takes Figgins’ dictated email, then adds Finn onto the email at the last minute, under bcc. Just in case. “There you go,” he says, smiling brightly. It’s surprisingly easy to fall into ‘dumb Puckerman’ mode for Figgins. 

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, children,” Figgins says. “This must have been quite troubling for you. Would you like passes to see Ms. Pillsbury before returning to your classes?”

Puck exchanges a glance with Kurt, who shrugs. “Sure,” Kurt says slowly, nodding. “Thank you for your time, Principal Figgins. I’m sure you’ll act quickly and decisively. I know my father would be interested to hear if I were further distressed by Mrs. Strandberg tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes,” Figgins says, in what’s obviously meant to be a reassuring manner. “I would like for both you and your father to remain untroubled. This matter will be dealt with swiftly.”

“Excellent.” Kurt shoulders his bag again and accepts the offered passes to see Ms. Pillsbury. Puck drops his phone back in his pocket and nods once. “Thank you for your time.”

Puck follows Kurt out, and they head towards the choir room, not Ms. Pillsbury’s office, because really? They’ve both been through more troubling encounters. Probably within the last twenty-four hours. Puck sits down in the back row, Kurt leaning against him, and Puck wonders if they can milk it to get out of third period, too. After just a moment, his phone chimes and he pulls it out to read a text from Finn.

_why?_

Puck laughs. “So I emailed it to Finn, too, just in case.”

“Oh? I bet he’s confused,” Kurt answers, taking advantage of Puck’s movement to lie his head in Puck’s lap. 

“A bit.”

_safekeeping dude, no one knows u have it_

_why is kurt fighting w some old lady_

_physics sub was going on again about morals_

_think id get another detention if i hit her too_

Puck laughs out loud at that one. 

“What is it?” Kurt murmurs. 

“Your brother apparently wants detentions instead of glee rehearsals.”

“Plural?”

“He already got one this morning.” Puck shrugs. 

_took it to figgins already_

_lmk if it needs brought cuz i will briiiiiing it_

_we’ll set you and Burt on her_

“Why’d he get a detention?”

“One of those baseball idiots was throwing around the f–word,” Puck sighs. “Finn decided to go after him before attending first period.”

“Ah.” Kurt sighs. “I should disapprove, but – did the other one at least get a detention this way?”

“That’s what Finn said.”

“That’s something, at least.”

 

The rest of the day is similar – a few looks, especially if Puck’s walking with anyone else from PFLAG, and there are whispers that Puck can’t make out. He doesn’t try particularly hard, either, though, and it’s a bit of a relief to retreat into the choir room after lunch, closing the door until after the final bell and almost all of the club streams in. 

“All right, guys, whose group would like to go first?” Schue asks as soon as he walks into the room. 

“Mr. Schuester! We’re not all present!” Rachel protests. “Shouldn’t we wait on Finn?”

“He won’t be here today,” Puck says blandly. 

“He _won’t_? Why not?”

“Detention,” Sam answers. “Mrs. Vey seemed impressed with his version of senioritis.”

“Detention? What did he do?” Mercedes shakes her head and sighs heavily. “This is just not responsible behavior.”

“Vigilante justice,” Brittany says. “Like Batman.”

“Justice for what?” Santana asks. 

“Baseball player,” Puck answers her. “Throwing around the f–word in the hall.”

Artie scowls. “I never thought I’d see the day where baseball players are the biggest problem at McKinley, but that’s obviously the situation now.”

“The hockey players are in mourning for their horrific season,” Kurt shrugs. “Judging by the banners in the hallway, the baseball team is winning more than losing. Hence, feeling like they can do whatever they want.”

“So after we win Nationals, we’ll do what we want?” Santana grins. 

“Somehow I doubt it carries the same clout,” Artie says.

“We can still do what we want.”

“Yes, yes, great, Santana,” Schue hurriedly says. “We’ll discuss that on the flight home in May, all right?” He looks around the room. “What group wants to go first? Did you guys decide on trios or quartets?”

“Trios,” Rachel answers for all of them. “Mercedes and Sam and I are one trio! We can perform today.”

“Sure,” Schue nods, gesturing with his hands. “Let’s hear what you have.”

“Just pretend I’m an Indigo Girl,” Sam quips as he straps on his guitar. 

Puck decides that’s suspension of disbelief beyond his capabilities, but Rachel and Mercedes harmonize nicely enough, Sam joining in only on the chorus. 

_And there's something ’bout the Southland in the springtime  
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason  
Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long  
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season  
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin'  
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'  
Than the Southland in the springtime_

“Nice choice,” Schue says at the end. “Good harmonies, girls. All right, one more group today?”

“Mr. Schue?” Quinn raises her hand. “Santana, Brittany, and I will go today.”

“Great, girls!” Schue smiles at the three of them. “What do you have for us?”

The three of them walk to the front of the room, and Santana nods at Brad and the jazz band. “It’s an old Flaming Lips song, ‘Can’t Stop the Spring’.”

Puck doesn’t recognize the tune, and the words don’t really help, but the three of them seem to have fun with it, anyway. 

_You can put the clouds up in your own little way  
But the sun is gonna come up the very next day  
It’s gonna be so bright, it’s gonna blow you away  
And once it’s over, your head will never be the same._

_You can crush the flowers  
But you couldn’t stop the spring  
No matter what you say_

“I like that you went for something different,” Schue nods. “Nice job. All right, we’ll hear from the rest of you tomorrow during class, and then I believe there’s a rehearsal tomorrow afternoon in the auditorium?”

“Yes, Mr. Schuester!” Rachel answers him. “There is!”

“Great, well, see you all tomorrow,” Schue dismisses them. 

“Interesting day,” Puck sighs as they head out to the Nav.

“I have a feeling it’s only going to get more interesting,” Kurt replies with a wry grin. “Santana and I talked this morning and she thinks we should simultaneously reveal our candidacies on Monday. And just wait until you see what I’m wearing Tuesday.”

“Oh?”

“Sorry, baby. No tie.”

 

“Boys! Dinner!” Carole calls, earlier than Puck expects, but when he thinks about it, Carole’s been on an early dinner kick for a few weeks. Usually they find her eating again around nine before she goes to bed. 

“At least it’s not Mexican,” Kurt says cheerfully. “Even if it is the fourth time we’ve had Brussels sprouts in the last two weeks.”

“She does know Pretzel’ll be perfectly healthy even if she doesn’t eat any Brussels sprouts, right?” Puck asks, making a face. 

“Who can say? At least we’re getting baked potatoes regularly, too,” Kurt shrugs, speaking quietly as they enter the kitchen and sit down. 

“Everything smells great, honey,” Burt says, as he walks into the kitchen. “Brussels sprouts again, huh? _Great!_ ” He sounds enthusiastic, but the smile on his face is somewhat forced.

“Aren’t they tasty?” Carole gushes as she sets the salad on the table next to the dreaded Brussels sprouts. “Wait. Where’s Finn?”

Puck looks at Kurt, who frowns. Uncool, Puck thinks briefly. Now they have to figure out how to tell Burt and Carole, or lie. “Well.” Kurt says, clearly stalling for time. Puck glances at the clock. It’s actually possible that will work.

“Well?” Carole repeats. 

“He, uh.” Kurt takes a sip of his pop. “Must, um.”

Puck can hear the front door opening and a pair of large feet clomping through the living room, then Finn appears in the kitchen doorway. “Awesome, made it home in time!”

“Home in time from where, exactly?” Burt asks.

“Finn, is everything all right?” Carole asks, peering at him. 

“Yup!” Finn says, as he takes his seat at the table. “I was just doing my detention for punching that baseball player in the nose.”

“What? What did you do, Finn?” Carole looks distressed and then notices the abrasion on his face. “Finn, you got hurt!”

“Nah, it’s fine, mom,” Finn says. “Seriously. The baseball players have been causing some trouble lately. They were harassing Brittany before spring break and today one of ’em decided he needed to start throwing ‘fag’ around, and you know, I’d just kinda had enough of them.”

“But fighting,” Carole continues, frowning. “I don’t like that.”

“Well, you know, sometimes you’ve just gotta talk to people in a language they understand,” Finn says, merrily. “Brussels sprouts again? Cool!” He scoops a large spoonful onto his plate. “Anyway, the other dude was way worse off than me and he got detention, too.”

Puck isn’t sure how anyone can still be genuinely enthusiastic about the Brussels sprouts, and from the looks on Kurt’s and Burt’s faces, they don’t understand it, either. “I think Mrs. Vey was dubiously impressed you managed to get detention _before_ class really started, dude,” Puck settles on. 

“I guess I’m just impressive that way,” Finn says, shrugging.

Burt seems to be making an effort not to smile. “Fighting at school, that’s not the wisest course of action,” he says, “but between you and me? I hope you messed that kid up a little.”

“Burt!” Carole exclaims, sounding shocked. “We can’t condone violence!”

“I’m not condoning it,” Burt says. “I’m just saying I hope.”

“So, did Kurt or Puck tell you about that substitute?” Finn asks. “She’s crazy.”

“Kurt?” Burt asks, looking at Kurt. “What substitute?”

“The one from physics class.” Kurt shrugs. “She finally crossed a line that Figgins wouldn’t be able to ignore. And Puck recorded most of it on his phone, so.” He smirks. “Figgins also knows how much you hate to see me distressed during school hours.”

“It’s crazy,” Finn adds. “She is just really batshit. Sorry, mom.”

“What kind of line are we talking here, kid?” Burt says, frowning. “Is Figgins really gonna handle this? It’s not too late to leave him a voicemail tonight.”

“He did seem pretty certain he didn’t want to hear from you,” Puck laughs. “She was going on about how immoral some of us were, and we could still be in the light instead of the dark. PFLAG and glee club are apparently the downfall of Western Ohio’s civilization.”

“You should tell him the ‘lifestyle’ part,” Finn says, through his mouthful of Brussels sprouts. 

“Oh, yeah, our lifestyle choices.” Puck snorts. “Pretty sure she wasn’t talking about the choice of which bowling lanes to patronize.”

“I’m sure whichever ones we chose, she would immediately boycott and only go to the other lanes,” Kurt says dryly. 

“Puck, you’ve got your phone on you right now?” Burt asks. “’Cause I’d like to hear that recording.”

Puck shrugs. “Sure.” He pulls out his phone, but stops before he hits play. “I didn’t have it out for the stuff about turning to the light or whatever, but this is right after that.” He thumbs the play button and listens to it for the third time. 

Burt’s frown deepens. “I’m calling Figgins first thing in the morning, and his response had better be that that kook has been fired,” he says. 

Kurt laughs for a second. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear from you.”

 

“I don’t wanna,” Puck announces as he flops onto Kurt’s bed. “What is the bare minimum I can do and still graduate and not have Mannes rescind the offer? That’s what I want to do.”

Kurt laughs and then drops down beside Puck. “Tempting. Very tempting. Let’s see. Pass everything with a C? And do all right on our AP exams?”

“Does that mean I can skip my English homework?”

“Probably. I don’t know.” Kurt sighs and rest his head on Puck’s shoulder. “This town is nuts. This day is nuts.”

“And we get to do it all over again tomorrow,” Puck muses, running his hand through Kurt’s hair absently. 

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,” Kurt says softly, “Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time.”

“Hmm.” Puck drops his cheek to rest on the top of Kurt’s head. “Love you.”

“I know.” Kurt’s arm drapes across Puck’s waist. “Love you too.” Kurt burrows his face against Puck’s chest for a moment. “Here’s what we should do.”

“Okay.”

“We should watch some ridiculous movie, not do any homework, and then.” Kurt grins up at Puck.

“Close the door?”

Kurt laughs. “Exactly.”

Burt and Carole have the television downstairs commandeered, though, so they set up a movie on Kurt’s laptop, and Puck goes ahead and closes the door before lying back down on the bed beside Kurt. 

They don’t make it far into the movie before Puck loses the plot, his hand under Kurt’s shirt, fingers brushing across Kurt’s nipples. He moves his mouth from Kurt’s jaw to his neck to his mouth, and then back again, grinning as he does so.

“You could just undress me,” Kurt points out, tilting his head to one side. 

“It’s—what’s the word? Uncouth?—uncouth. We’re watching a movie, Kurt.”

“You’re not.”

“Hmm. I sort of am. There was an explosion a minute ago. You should watch it while I’m occupied.”

“Someone jumped into a pool,” Kurt giggles. 

“That’s sort of an explosion,” Puck protests, nipping at Kurt’s earlobe. “You don’t want to make out during the movie?”

“I could just stop the movie.”

“Takes all the fun out of it.” Puck lowers his mouth back to Kurt’s neck, then pauses. “You said no tie, does that mean…?”

Kurt’s breath hitches just a little, and there’s a pause before he exhales. “Oh, fuck it, it’s April already.”

Puck laughs and then bites down gently, working at the skin on the side of Kurt’s neck until it blooms dark against Kurt’s skin. He unbuttons just one additional button, sliding Kurt’s shirt to one side and kissing along Kurt’s collarbone. Puck slides one hand down Kurt’s side and then cups Kurt’s erection as it pushes against his jeans. “Beautiful.”

“I think you’re the tease now,” Kurt whines. “Why do I have to pretend to watch the movie?”

“Because I’m not ready to undress you yet,” Puck shrugs, stroking his thumb lightly along the outline of Kurt’s cock. “Because I want you so hard that it hurts.”

“Already getting there,” Kurt grunts, rocking his hips upwards. “Baby, please.”

“Uh-uh.” Puck laughs. “Going to have to shut you up now.” He pushes his tongue into Kurt’s mouth, kissing him deeply and a little harshly, his palm pressing down on Kurt. He slowly moves his hand and replaces it with his upper thigh, his own cock against Kurt’s hip. Kurt flings his arms around Puck, holding him in place, and Puck grinds down against Kurt, smirking internally at the gasp it illicits. 

“Puck, _please_ ,” Kurt says.

“Please what, blue eyes?” Puck laughs. 

“Please _fuck me now_ ,” Kurt demands.

“You want that?” Puck murmurs, one hand unfastening Kurt’s shirt as he trails his lips over the exposed skin. “You want me inside you, K?”

“Yes,” Kurt hisses. “I want you naked above me, thrusting into me. I want you to finish taking off our clothes and get on with it.”

“Get on with it?” Puck repeats, laughing. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He finishes unbuttoning Kurt’s shirt and wrestles it off before pulling off his own shirt. “This any better?”

Kurt frowns. “Better but not good enough.”

“Yeah?” Puck asks. “Tell me what you want me to do now.”

“I want you to take off those jeans,” Kurt says. “And I want your cock in my mouth before you put it anywhere else.”

Puck bites back a groan, exhaling as he quickly finishes losing his clothing, then turns to position himself near Kurt’s mouth. “Like this, K?”

“Yes,” Kurt answers, his breath warm against Puck’s cock. “Just like this.” Kurt wraps his lips around Puck, his tongue flicking across the tip and then wrapping around Puck. 

“Damn, K,” Puck breathes after a moment. “Thought— _fuck_ do that again—you wanted me to fuck you.”

Kurt continues moving his mouth on Puck for another moment before slowly pulling away. “I do,” he agrees. “I do, very much.” 

Puck runs his hand back over Kurt’s cock, grinning. “You want me to take care of these pesky jeans, blue eyes?”

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “Very much so. I want them off and I don’t want anything back on for a long time.”

Puck laughs. “Got it.” He slowly peels off Kurt’s jeans, tossing them in the floor. Then he runs his thumb down the underside of Kurt’s cock before lowering his mouth to Kurt’s balls. He lets his hand drift behind them, teasing at Kurt’s entrance, before pulling away. “Turn over, Kurt.”

Kurt rolls over immediately, and Puck runs his tongue over Kurt’s entrance twice before slowly pushing his tongue inside. “Oh, god, baby,” Kurt whimpers. “Fuck. That’s so good.” Puck grins and goes a little deeper before pulling back. 

“I’m going to fuck you now, blue eyes,” Puck whispers. “I’m going to slide into you and fill you up, just like you asked me to.”

“Oh, yes, Puck, please,” Kurt agrees. “Want you inside me, baby.”

“Mmmhmm,” Puck agrees, pulling the lube out of the drawer and spreading a little on his cock before setting it back on the bedside table. “On your knees, K.” Kurt moves onto his knees and Puck moves forward, nudging at Kurt’s entrance and then grabbing his hips to push in. “You are _so_ fucking tight, Kurt.”

Kurt sighs, relaxing around Puck before his muscles tighten around Puck again as Puck stills, fully inside Kurt. “You feel so good, baby. Want you to fuck me now, Puck.”

Puck chuckles. “Getting there, impatient one.” He slowly withdraws part of the way before slamming back in, and after doing that another time, he just pushes in slowly, too, his hand wrapping around Kurt’s cock. 

“Not so slow,” Kurt whines. 

“You want me to go faster?” Puck asks. “Like this?” He does speed up, thrusting in harder with each movement, and Kurt sighs. 

“Yes. God, yes.” 

Puck increases his speed even more, his hand on Kurt’s cock flying, and dimly he’s aware of the fucking movie still playing in the background. Kurt starts to hum and Puck tightens his hand around Kurt, still slamming into Kurt from behind, and when Kurt starts to come, Puck does as well, the two of them slumping to the bed together afterwards. 

“You didn’t put the lube up,” Kurt notes absently. 

“You didn’t let me wait until the movie was over,” Puck counters. 

“Those are related?”

“Mmmhmm.” Puck grins. “After the movie’s over, I guess it’s my turn.”

 

Kurt still isn’t sure how Santana ended up in his math class during second semester but not during the first semester. Regardless, it often means that he finds himself walking in step with her through the corridors of McKinley before he’s even finished his second cup of coffee of the morning, which is simultaneously terrifying and fascinating. 

“Britt and I are going hardcore, all-out for prom,” Santana says, shaking her head. “You two? Don’t stand a chance.”

“People like irony, Satan. Our ticket is far more ironic and also allows them to assuage their subconscious guilt for last year’s coordinated write–in campaign.”

“Please!” Santana snorts. “I’ll let you continue with your delusions, then. Did you hear about Jim Mueller?”

“The idiot who does the morning ‘news’ on WLMA?” Kurt asks distastefully, making quotation marks with his hands. “Did he finally decide to stop inflicting his particular brand of vitriol on our bustling metropolis?”

Santana snorts out a loud laugh. “Bustling metropolis, that’s a good one. No, he apparently decided it was his turn to weigh in on Gaygate.”

“Gaygate? Really?” Kurt levels a look at her. 

“Okay, okay, fine. _The situation involving the school board and a student group at McKinley_ is the way he put it. ‘The situation’ seems to be the media’s favorite way to phrase it.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “Well, what did Mueller say?”

“That we were a group run amok.” Santana snorts. “Principal Figgins should be ashamed for letting special interests establish such strongholds in a public school situation. The great part was Mueller seemed to think that Figgins is our biggest booster or something. Fantastic.”

“I’m sure Figgins loves that after yesterday,” Kurt muses.

“There’s the school fags!” a voice calls as they pass by, and Kurt sighs while Santana rolls her eyes. 

“Doesn’t he get tired of that?” Kurt asks. “Every morning.”

“You’d think he could come up with something more creative by now,” Santana snipes. 

“Creativity requires two brain cells to rub together. He barely has a brain stem.”

“You’re being generous. Is that a campaign strategy?”

“No more than demonic possessions are for you,” Kurt says sweetly. 

“Too bad we aren’t straight,” Santana sighs wistfully. “You and me, we could have ruled this place.”

“Oh, Satan. We still do.”

 

Puck isn’t sure what they’ll find in physics, so he leans against the wall near the water fountain until Kurt approaches, and they walk in together. 

“Hello, Kurt, Noah,” Ms. Pillsbury greets them with a smile, and Puck blinks.

“Uh, hey, Ms. P. You a secret physics minor or something?”

Ms. Pillsbury laughs. “No, no. Principal Figgins sent me here to supervise this class. He called a short-term substitute but she won’t be here until the start of third period.” She smiles at another student entering the room. “So I’m just to sit here and supervise. All of you may talk quietly or study.”

“Score,” Puck says to Kurt as they sit down. 

“Yes.” Kurt drops his bag and props his head on one hand. “So Mueller weighed in on the school board, ’Tana said.”

“Yeah?” Puck snorts. “Full of good thoughts for us, I’m sure.” 

“Just because the man adores Rush Limbaugh is no reason to— oh, wait.” Kurt rolls his eyes slightly. “Yes, yes it is. Apparently he’s trying to place all the blame on Figgins, though, which is sort of ridiculously ludicrous to anyone who has ever _met_ Figgins.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, that’s… hilarious, actually. I bet Figgins is pissing himself.” He glances up at Ms. P, who looks vaguely appalled, and mouths “Sorry.”

“God, yes. Especially since we heard Dad actually calling him this morning.” Kurt giggles. “It couldn’t have happened to a better principal.”

“I wonder what it would be like to attend a school with a competent administrator,” Puck says. “I’m sure it happens. Some places.”

“Not Lima,” Kurt agrees. “Definitely not Lima.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised that we have Ms. P in here. I half–expected all of us to just be turned loose.”

“Yes. Maybe he was afraid of another telephone call.”

“You’re the Draco Malfoy of McKinley, K.”

Kurt sniffs. “Wait until my father hears about this.” He holds it for a moment before giggling. “That would be awesome. Do you think Dad would like a snakehead cane?”

“Only if there’s a wand inside?” Puck guesses. “And Carole totally would make a great Narcissa. She’d lie in a heartbeat for any of us.”

“This is true.” Kurt nods slowly. “Does that make you Pansy Parkinson or Astoria Greengrass?”

“No, K,” Puck shakes his head. “I’m Harry fucking Potter.”

Kurt throws his head back laughing. “I love it.”

“Hey, thanks,” one of the juniors turns around and says suddenly. “Seriously, _thank you_. I don’t know what you did besides recording the conversation yesterday, but.”

“Detailed notes,” Puck fills in, pointing at Kurt and grinning. “Figgins still uses AOL for his Internet, the notes totally made more of an impact than our digital recordings. Oh, and he totally Draco Malfoy’d Figgins.”

“What?” one of them asks, wrinkling his forehead. 

“Ohh,” another one answers. “Threatened him with your dad?”

Kurt smirks. “Maybe.”

“Whatever it takes!” the junior answers. “I’m just glad we don’t have to listen to her anymore.”

There’s a few nods and sounds of agreement, and Puck fights to hide a grin. Who knew they’d be the heroes of physics class?

 

When Puck gets to English, Rachel looks like she could set something on fire with her eyes, which makes him approach cautiously. “Hey?”

“Oh, Noah! You won’t believe what the small-minded reprobates of our community have done now!”

“Probably not,” Puck nods, because he’s not quite sure what a reprobate is. 

“I found the most despicable note in my locker just before second period,” Rachel continues, almost as if he hadn’t spoken. “No longer content to spread their hatred through the spoken word, they are relying on anonymous notes and pamphlets, which is really quite cowardly, don’t you think?”

“A bit?” Puck shrugs. “What’d they say?”

“Just ridiculous nonsense about how my dads were disgusting, and how obviously not having an involved mother _did_ in fact scar me for life, because if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t be the way that I am.” She huffs angrily. “I _like_ the way that I am! I love my dads!”

“Just ignore them,” Puck sighs, even though he knows it’s far easier to say that than to actually ignore what people say. 

“I am trying very hard to do so,” Rachel agrees, nodding sharply. “Now, to happier topics. I am thrilled that we are no longer discussing the same play, as much as I love the theatre.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, that was ridiculous. Though.” Puck frowns at the novel on his desk. “I think this book is going to be confusing. Reverse chronological order?”

“Oh, I think it’ll be interesting,” Rachel argues. 

“At least it’s the last one.” Puck shrugs. “Almost there.”

“Don’t wish away our remaining time!” Rachel chides. “Though, yes. At least it is.”

The rest of English class is completely boring, and Puck abandons trying to follow the lecture after fifteen minutes, which is about the time that the teacher starts saying ‘acculturation’ every third word. Rachel continues to take frantic notes, though, and Puck’s pretty sure he can get that necessary C if he just throws the word ‘acculturation’ around enough times. 

Rachel, of course, trots beside him on the way to the choir room, though at least she’s not looking so angry now. “And I do hope Mr. Schuester will be true to his word about rehearsal this afternoon!”

“Yeah, well,” Puck shrugs. “I think he will be.”

“Hopefully there will be no further detentions,” Rachel adds loudly just as she crosses the threshold into the choir room. 

“I can’t make any promises,” Finn responds, not looking the least bit guilty. “Sometimes I just have to take care of stuff.”

“Finn, as a leader of this club, you have an obligation to be present at rehearsals,” Rachel argues. 

“I have an obligation to shut people’s pieholes sometimes, too,” Finn says. “All that responsibility’s hard to balance sometimes.”

Rachel just splutters and takes her seat as Mr. Schue walks in the room. “Ah, Finn, good to see you today,” he says with a grin. “No problem with detentions, I hope?”

“Nope. I did a really great job with my detention. It wasn’t a problem at all.”

“Oh, well, uh, good, I guess,” Schue responds, looking somewhat puzzled. “So, to our performances!”

“We’ll go, Mr. Schue!” Tina volunteers. “Mike, Artie, and I are going to perform ‘Spring Street’.”

“I don’t think I know that one,” Schue admits. 

“It’s by Dar Williams,” Tina shrugs. “She’s not that well-known.”

“Oh, I see,” Schue nods. “All right, well, let’s hear it!”

Tina hands a few sheets of paper to Brad and the jazz band before the three of them start to sing. 

_Can I blow this small town  
Make a big sound  
Like the star of a film noir postcard  
Can I just forget the frames I shared with you_

_And I can’t believe what they’re saying  
They’re saying I can change my mind  
Start over on spring street  
I’m welcome anytime_

“Nice, nice choice,” Schue nods. “I guess that leaves the three of you?” he asks, gesturing to where Finn, Kurt, and Puck are sitting in a row. 

“Astounding powers of deduction,” Kurt mutters under his breath as the three of them stand up. 

“Sure,” Puck nods, trying not to laugh out loud. “We’re gonna do ‘Here Comes the Sun’.”

“Ah, a classic,” Schue smiles. “Great choice.” Puck just nods and they sing through it, harmonizing nicely, even if Puck’s maybe a little biased. “Nicely done,” Schue compliments them as they sit back down. “So, is there anything we need to know about rehearsal this afternoon?”

“Yes,” Finn says, and his face is suspiciously serious. “It’s an _undress_ rehearsal.”

“Uh.” Schue looks perplexed. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, an undress rehearsal,” Finn repeats, shaking his head at Schue like he’s some kind of idiot for not knowing what that is. If Puck weren’t looking right at Finn and hadn’t known him since they were in first grade, he probably wouldn’t notice the corner of Finn’s mouth twitching. “It was Mike’s idea. Apparently, clothes are getting in the way of choreography. Mike suggested we do an undress rehearsal to see if it helps.”

“Yeah!” Mike picks up the thread of conversation without missing a beat. “That way I can, uh, analyze the lines of everyone’s movements much easier.”

“It’s a new technique they’re using on Broadway,” Kurt nods. “Very cutting-edge, very professional.”

Rachel frowns. “Are you sure, Kurt?”

“Absolutely. _Priscilla_ started it, but it’s really catching on.”

“They did it for that one show,” Finn says. “That new one. Rachel, you know what show I’m talking about. I know you probably read about it in one of your magazines, since you always know all about this kind of stuff.”

“ _One Man_?” Rachel asks. “Oh! I had no idea! Of course, that makes sense, they would want to make a big impression in the first weeks of the show!”

“Exactly,” Finn says. “So, we’re having one of those today.”

“Guys,” Schue begins slowly. “I’m not sure — I know you have been fairly autonomous, but this _is_ a school–funded club and the rehearsal is taking place on school property. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.”

Finn tries very hard to keep a straight face, but within a few seconds of Schue’s protest, he starts laughing and doesn’t seem able to stop. “Oh, man!” he keeps repeating, in between gasps for breath and additional fits of laughter. “Oh, man!”

“Finn!” Rachel sounds horribly scandalized. “And you, Mike! Kurt!” She presses her hands to her cheeks. “I can’t believe you three!”

Kurt smiles sweetly at her. “Really, Rachel. _Priscilla_ should have been a clue.”

“And it’s not like we could perform sans costumes,” Mike laughs. “I think there would be a lot of objections from the judges.”

Schue looks dumbfounded, staring from Finn, who is still laughing, to Mike and then Kurt, before returning his gaze to Finn. “Well. Well,” Schue repeats. “I.” He finally seems to come to some sort of decision and starts to chuckle. “An undress rehearsal. I’ll have to remember that and use it on some of the other sponsors at Nationals.”

“You know, if Zachary’s group is anything like Zachary, they’ll be so stoned that they really _will_ believe it,” Kurt whispers to Puck.

Puck snorts. “Yep.”

“Well, um,” Schue says, finally sobering slightly. “Anything _else_ we need to know about this afternoon?”

“I want us to really work on blocking in terms of each other and just one or two markers,” Mike says. “I think we should start rehearsing in different spots, so that we’re not too dependent on our rehearsal space.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea,” Schue nods. “Wow, can you believe it? We leave on May 14, and tomorrow is April 14!”

“A month,” Tina repeats weakly. “That means less than a month until AP exams. And Prom.”

“Do you think we should find a time to add _another_ rehearsal?” Finn asks. 

“Practically speaking, though, when could we do so, Finn?” Rachel asks. “I think we’ve all agreed that regular Saturday rehearsals aren’t an option.”

Puck tries to mentally go through the week, though it looks like Kurt’s having more luck actually doing so. Kurt shakes his head slowly. “Finn, we’re already practicing every day except Saturday, and twice on some days,” he says calmly. Finn turns to look at Kurt as Kurt speaks, then his face slowly switches from mildly panicked to relieved.

“No, you’re right,” Finn says. “We’re already practicing a lot. You’re right. It’s fine.”

“We are,” Kurt nods. “We’re rehearsing more than some groups, in fact.”

“And we can start dress rehearsals, what do you think? Two weeks out?” Finn asks, directing the question at Kurt.

“Two weeks, yes,” Kurt nods. “At the beginning of May, more or less.”

“And maybe we’ll start with the shoes next week,” Finn says. “I always worry about the shoes.”

“He does,” Puck nods. “He really does.”

“Right. The shoes,” Schue repeats, looking a little puzzled. “Well, about next week. Since I’m assuming all of you are participating in the Day of Silence, we probably don’t need an assignment requiring you to perform on Friday!”

“Mr. Schue?” Tina raises her hand slightly. “I was actually going to recommend we move Thursday’s glee rehearsal to the parking lot and corridors at the school board meeting location, which ties in nicely with Mike’s idea about rehearsing in different spaces.”

“Oh, well, all right,” Schue nods. “Maybe for Monday, just — if anyone has a song they’d like to do, that hasn’t fit within an assignment?” he suggests. There are several nods and no one disagrees, so he nods again. “All right, see you this afternoon!”

 

“So, yes, ten or twelve,” Kurt answers Finn as he pulls pop out of the refrigerator. “It’s not a huge number, but it’s ten or twelve more for us as opposed to the others.” Kurt leans against the counter and surveys the kitchen. “How many people are coming tonight, again?”

“Twenty or twenty-five, something like that,” Finn says. “I guess that cheerleader movie’s popular with the girls. Or, I dunno, the people who still want to figure out where all the legs go.”

“You don’t?” Puck asks, smirking.

Finn rolls his eyes. “It’s just four legs, dude. How many places could they go? It’s not that complicated.”

Puck snickers. “That’s what we kept telling you, dude.” He picks up the giant bowl of chips that Carole insisted that they needed. “I didn’t know you had a bowl this big.”

“We didn’t.” Kurt sighs. “It’s new. There’s an equally oversized pair of bowls for salsa and guacamole.”

“Maybe she can give Pretzel a bath in it?” Puck asks dubiously. 

“Yeah, but then we couldn’t use it for chips after,” Finn says.

“Why not?”

“I dunno, dude. Would you want to eat chips out of a bowl that a baby’s butt has been in?” Finn shakes his head. “I don’t think I would.”

Puck shrugs. “Not like it’s a diaper, man. As long as it got washed.”

“Well, I’ll remember that for the future,” Finn says. “As long as it gets washed, it’s fine for you to eat out of it.”

“As long as it’s just a baby butt,” Puck amends. “If it was _your_ butt…” He laughs. 

“Hey, don’t talk about my butt,” Finn says. “My butt’s just fine and anyway, I’m not sticking it in the chip bowl, so it’s a non-issue.”

“It is a source of great relief for us all,” Kurt says dryly. “Congratulations on your butt being free of chips. Please keep it free of guacamole and salsa as well.”

“Yeah, well, same to you,” Finn says, crossing his arms. 

“Thank you for your concern,” Kurt shoots back, grinning. 

“I’m not concerned. I just figure if you end up with your ass in the guac, I’ll end up getting blamed for it,” Finn says. “That just sounds like something that everybody would think is my fault. You know I’m right.”

“That’s because it _would_ be your fault,” Kurt says confidently. “I’m sure of it.”

“See? Already blaming me and it hasn’t even happened yet. My life is so unfair.”

“Yes, brother dear, it’s a Greek tragedy.”

“No, it’s a Mexican tragedy, dude. It’s chips and salsa, not spank–the–pita,” Finn says, shaking his head. 

“This _house_ is a Mexican tragedy,” Puck says, shaking his own head as Kurt starts giggling. 

The doorbell rings, and shortly afterward, Burt calls out, “Boys! The doorbell!”

“Like we couldn’t hear it?” Kurt says, looking puzzled as he picks up the oversized guacamole bowl and walks towards the door. 

“Yeah, well, if Burt were a superhero, he’d be Captain Obvious,” Finn says, under his breath, to Puck. 

Puck snorts as Kurt opens the door, revealing a passel of what Puck reluctantly decides are excited dykes. There’s just no other way to describe them. Santana and Brittany are in the front of them, and Santana smirks slightly as Brittany holds out a copy of “But I’m a Cheerleader!” by way of greeting. 

“Hello, girls, Satan,” Kurt says with a slight sigh. 

“Aww, using our private nicknames in public now?” Santana laughs. “Are you ready for some lady lovin’?”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “Not really. Not ever. Come in anyway. Have some chips.”

“Guaranteed baby butt free!” Finn announces. “For now, anyway.”

“I wasn’t worried about baby butts,” one of the sophomores mutters as they file inside. “Should I have been? Gay dudes are so weird.”

Finn just blinks like he’s startled, then he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, then he shuts it again and continues to blink. Puck looks at her back confusedly. “Uh.”

“I’m contagious,” Kurt says dryly. 

“I’m gonna go grab the… something,” Finn says, making a hasty retreat from the living room. 

“Does everyone know?” Puck whispers to Kurt. 

“Everyone except the people that spend the most time with us, apparently.” Kurt shrugs. “You’d think Sam at least would have figured it out after what Stevie said.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, well. He didn’t even notice that I never denied it. I haven’t _lied_.”

“No,” Kurt agrees. The doorbell rings again, and Puck swings it open this time. 

“Hey guys!” Tina grins. She, Mike, and some of the A/V club file inside, and then Puck notices Artie wheeling up the driveway, so he and Kurt step outside. 

“So, I looked up the movies for this week, and it turns out that both of them are indie films,” Artie explains. “I figured I’d give them a shot. Also, as the former boyfriend of a girl who is currently dating a girl, I appreciate the somewhat autobiographical aspect.”

“I don’t have particularly high hopes for it,” Kurt admits as they lift Artie and his chair onto the porch and over the threshold. “But the other one is well-done.”

“And somehow, I’m still looking forward to the cheerleader one more,” Artie says. 

“God, straight boys,” Kurt shakes his head. “Always wanting to know where the legs go.”

“In my defense,” Artie says, “it can be harder for me to mentally work out leg positioning than it probably is for some other people.”

“You still _want to know_ ,” Kurt points out, shrugging. “Enjoy the chips. The bowl is huge,” he adds as the doorbell rings yet again. 

“We shoulda put up a ‘walk right in’ sign,” Puck comments. 

“Truly.” Kurt opens the door. “Ah. Brown.” He smiles then. “Alicia, Rick, David, Casey. Come in.”

“Nice to see you, too, Kurt,” Brown says. “You’ve got a really nice house.”

“A pleasure.” Kurt’s smile is so exquisitely fake that Puck wants to grin. “And yes, we rather like it. Such a nice sanctuary from the outside world and all the people— I mean, stressors.”

“Mmhmm,” Browns says. “I just bet.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice, Brown,” Karofsky says, rolling his eyes at Brown. “Sorry about that, Kurt. Brown thinks he’s a gift to the world.”

“We all know that isn’t the case,” Alicia says, mock–sadly. 

Kurt points them all in the direction of the living room, repeating his earlier injunction about enjoying the chips. A few more people arrive, including Sam, Mercedes, and Taylor, and they’re all shoved into the living room, about to start the lesbian movie, when the doorbell rings a final time. 

‘I’ll get it,” Finn says, and then Puck hears him say, “Oh Jesus Christ!”

“Isn’t it exquisite?” Rachel’s voice answers, and Puck slowly turns to look through the doorway, afraid of what he might see. He winces when he realizes that Rachel wasn’t kidding about Titanic Day. She’s wearing an outfit from the movie, complete with a fake of the necklace. 

“But… but _why_?” Finn is asking. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s Titanic Day!” Rachel says. “Daddy and I watched _Titanic_ this afternoon so I could still come tonight!” 

“Holy shit, Berry,” Santana says. “That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. And that’s including Puckerman naked.”

“Hey!”

“Why did you wear it here, though?” Finn asks. “It’s really not that kind of movie watching night, you know.”

“I get so few nights to wear it,” Rachel says, smoothing her hand over the skirt of the dress. “I just wanted to show off a little, I guess. And who doesn’t love _Titanic_?”

Slowly, several hands in the room go up, including Puck’s own. The ending is awful. Finn, whose hand is also in the air, says, “I think we should start the movie now.”

“I agree,” Kurt says faintly, looking vaguely horrified at the recent turns of events. He grabs the remote and hits play, the movie starting immediately. There’s scattered laughter throughout the movie, though Puck isn’t sure what he thinks about it still. It’s meant to be funny, and it mostly is. Artie, Sam, and Mike all look really interested whenever the girls so much as kiss, but when they reach the graduation scene, Brittany says, “This is my favorite part!”

“I like Larry,” Tina says, shrugging. 

“Did you survive the lady sexy times?” Santana asks Kurt as the credits roll. 

“No. I’m traumatized permanently,” Kurt says flatly. 

“I thought it was good,” Artie says. “More enjoyable than I anticipated.”

“It was,” Mike agrees.

“Shall we move on to the next movie?” Kurt asks. 

“This movie come with any warnings any of us should be aware of?” Brown asks.

“Sex,” Kurt answers, “and—”

“We’ve got it covered,” Karofsky interrupts. 

“Okay, cool,” Brown says. “That’s cool.”

“Wait, sex?” Sam asks. “Like… gay sex?”

“Awesome,” someone whispers, which sends Tina, Casey, and the passel of probably–dykes into a fit of giggles. 

“Is there… a lot of it?” Artie asks. 

“A bit,” Kurt shrugs carelessly, obviously enjoying himself now. “Enough to keep the story moving.” With that, he starts up _Latter Days_. 

“Everyone hates the French!” Sam repeats after Aaron says it. “That’s hilarious.”

“Damn, I’d like a piece of that,” Brown says at one point. “Ooh, that, too.”

“You want a piece of everyone,” Kurt rolls his eyes. “I think we’ve established that.”

Brown snorts. “Please. Plenty of people I don’t want a piece of. Shep, for starters.”

“I’m so hurt,” Karofsky grumbles.

“Well, you’re just too pretty. It would make me cry all day.”

Karofsky just rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond a second time. “Shut up, Miles,” Alicia orders. “We want to hear all about this poor Mormon boy.”

“Oh, I just bet you do,” Brown mutters, but he does, in fact, shut up after that.

Everyone seems to be more or less enjoying the movie, and Santana cackles at one point. “A walking talking marshmallow peep. I’m using that some day.”

When they reach the point of Aaron and Christian getting undressed in the motel room, Puck discreetly scans the room. Artie, Sam, and Mike all walk into the kitchen without delay, and Taylor and Mercedes follow soon after. Alicia seems to be making Rick stay in place, though he’s definitely uncomfortable and looking anywhere _but_ the screen. 

Casey looks strangely contrite, like he’s terribly sorry Karofsky has to be sitting next to him while this particular scene is playing. Karofsky looks like he can’t decide if he should be uncomfortable or intrigued, for his part. Puck shakes his head a little and looks back at the screen for a few moments. Yeah, it’s kind of hot, but… not compared to anything he can legitimately have. 

Puck glances over at Finn, a little surprised Finn didn’t flee with the others into the kitchen. In fact, Finn doesn’t seem to actually notice that anybody’s gone to the kitchen. He’s watching the screen intently, his eyebrows squished together in that face that means he’s confused or trying to process some line of thought. He also looks vaguely worried about something. 

“Wow, they are… _really_ naked,” Karofsky blurts, then looks appalled with himself. Puck bites his lip, trying hard not to laugh. 

“That’s generally how the whole sex thing works, Shep,” Brown says. “Maybe _you_ need me to video tape it or something.”

“That is _it_ ,” is all Karofsky says, and then there’s the distinctive sound of a fist hitting a face.

“ _Shit_ , Shep!” Brown yells. 

“Maybe if I hit your mouth enough you’ll keep it shut for a few minutes a day!” Karofsky roars back, and Puck looks over in time to see another punch land. 

“Fuck,” Puck mutters, looking over at Finn, who’s already leaped up from his seat and is attempting to hold Karofsky by an arm, which provides enough room for Brown to get in a swing at Karofsky’s face. Puck sighs and walks over to Brown, grabbing his wrist. “Enough.”

Brown starts to yank his arm away, then stops. “You know, I’m done. It’s fine. I’m done.” He puts up his hand. “You made your point, Shep. Not exactly sure what your point’s been these last couple weeks, but you damn sure made it.” He pinches his nose to slow the blood that’s pouring out of it. “Alicia, Foots, one of you just give me a call when this movie’s over. Cherry, I’ll give you a call or text later.”

Puck releases Brown’s wrist and jerks his head towards the door, then looks over at Karofsky, meeting Finn’s eyes. “Well?”

Finn nods. “Yeah. I think so. Karofsky, dude. Go home. Calm the fuck down.” Karofsky’s still breathing hard, but he kind of jerks his head in an approximation of a nod, then looks sort of sheepishly at Casey for a second before looking back at the door. “We’ll get him home later. You need to go.”

Karofsky nods again and heads towards the door when Finn releases him, and when the door closes, the room lets out a collective exhale. “Well, shit,” Puck says. 

“What the hell just happened?” Mercedes asks from the doorway nearest the kitchen, where she and the straight guys are clustered, obviously called by the noise.

“I’m so sorry,” Casey says, softly. “I am so, so sorry.”

Puck looks quizzically at Casey, then over at Finn before exchanging a glance with Kurt. “Why?” Puck finally asks. “You didn’t do anything.”

Casey just shakes his head minutely, his eyes huge, but dry, and his face very pale. 

“Cedes?” Kurt says softly. “Can you bring Casey a nice cold pop?”

“Sure,” Mercedes agrees, swiftly getting the drink and passing it through the living room until it reaches Casey. 

“Thank you very much,” Casey says. He smiles brightly at Mercedes. Puck shakes his head slightly, because the change in attitude and mood is so swift, but he’s not going to challenge it. He drops back into his seat next to Kurt and rests his head on the back of the couch, not sure what Kurt’s mouthing to Finn. 

A moment later, though, Finn passes something to Kurt, along with a water bottle, and seconds later, Puck has a Xanax in his hand along with an open bottle of water. He half–grins. Gay ninja gets an assist.

The rest of the movie passes in relative quiet, a few laughs and exclamations at appropriate points. There’s a clear desire amongst most of the room to ignore the fistfight that occurred. 

“I loved that,” Tina says at the end. “Such a nice story.”

“The director made some interesting stylistic choices,” Artie says. 

“They were totally dressed up _without_ ties, at the end,” Puck points out, smirking slightly. 

“Yep, without ties is the best dressing up,” Finn says. “Now everybody get out of my house. I’m tired of all your faces.”

“Rick, Alicia, Mike and I can take you home,” Tina offers, standing and shooting Finn an understanding glance.

“Thanks,” Rick says, holding on a little tighter to Alicia. “That’s real nice of you.”

“No problem,” Tina assures them, then almost herds them out the door in front of her and Mike. “Finn, Kurt, P— thanks for hosting.”

“Of course,” Kurt replies. “See you tomorrow.”

The rest of them trickle out slowly, and Finn goes over to Casey, who’s still sitting on the sofa clutching his pop and wearing that overly–bright smile. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Casey nods and before he and Finn leave, he turns to Kurt and Puck. “Thank you for having us over. I’m so sorry. For, um. I’m just really, really sorry about that.”

“Not your fault,” Kurt replies smoothly. “Don’t worry about it, please.”

“Still,” Casey says, shrugging. 

“Seriously, don’t,” Puck repeats.

“We’ll be out,” Kurt says quietly to Finn. “Just make sure to flip the sliding door locked?”

“Sure thing,” Finn says. “Come on, Casey. I’m hungry. Are you hungry? I might swing by Pat’s or something before we go to your place.” He keeps up a steady stream of similar talk as he and Casey head out the door. 

Kurt turns to Puck and Puck just sighs, leaning against him. “Bed now?”

“Yes, baby,” Kurt says quietly. “Bed now.” They quickly throw away the trash and Kurt leaves the dishes on the table for Finn before they head upstairs. When they get to the top of the stairs, Burt pokes his head out of his room.

“So, one of you want to explain what the hell was going on down there?” Burt asks. 

“David and Brown got into it,” Kurt says quietly, sighing. “I can’t really blame David, since I’d often like to punch Brown, but nevertheless. Most of us don’t act on it.”

Puck snorts. “Yeah, a punching booth would earn some money.”

“Uh-huh,” Burt says, frowning. “What was this about, exactly? I’ve gotta admit I’m not thrilled to hear about David Karofsky punching people in my living room.”

“Casey, I think?” Puck says after a moment. “And something about a videotape.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should give Paul a call tomorrow,” Burt says. “He might want to know what’s going on with those boys.” He frowns again. “Does _anybody_ know what’s going on with those boys?”

“No, not really,” Kurt admits. “If you figure it out, please go buy a lottery ticket.”

Burt shakes his head. “You know, I like Paul. He’s a good guy. Just sometimes, I wonder…”

“Mmm.” Kurt shrugs. “Good night, Dad.”

“Night, boys. Sorry your movie event turned out to include a live show.” Burt disappears back into his room. 

“Live action wrestling,” Puck snorts as they walk into Kurt’s room. Kurt nods and closes the door behind them, already starting to undress. 

“Let’s go to bed, baby.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, “Let’s do that.” He removes his clothes and climbs into the bed, barely remembering to set his alarm before closing his eyes. Kurt slides next to him and wraps his arms around Puck after turning out the lamp. 

“Good night,” Kurt whispers. 

“Yeah, good night,” Puck echoes. 

 

Puck wakes up feeling almost like he’s hungover, and he glares at the screen of his phone, announcing that it’s time for him to crawl out of bed and go to work. He sighs and looks back over at Kurt, still peacefully asleep, and realizes that this might be the reason he usually doesn’t spend the night when he has to work in the morning. 

The thought that he has to get used to it sometime? Doesn’t really help. 

Puck groans silently and wiggles out of Kurt’s arms, pressing his lips against Kurt’s briefly before rummaging through the clothes he has at Kurt’s to find something approximating what he should be wearing to work. He shoves a few things into his backpack and slings it over one shoulder before heading down the stairs as quietly as he can. He opens a cabinet silently and plucks out a pack of Finn’s Pop-Tarts, hoping Finn will chalk it up to not remembering how many there were. Or Carole. 

 

“Did Puck take my Pop-Tarts again?” Finn says, leaning in Kurt’s doorway. “He knows I know he’s the one eating them, right? ’Cause mom said the smell of them makes her want to puke.”

Kurt looks up from his laptop and shrugs, smiling slightly. “Probably? I don’t know, I don’t wake up at 5:15 in the morning.”

“Well, if he happens to mention it, you can tell him, I don’t care if he eats the Pop-Tarts, but he’s not fooling anybody.”

“He’s probably fooling Dad.”

Finn laughs. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

“Casey got home all right?”

“Yeah, we went to Pat’s and I bought him a doughnut and a latte first,” Finn says. “And then Brown called him and… I don’t know, Kurt. It’s like it’s some kind of weird love triangle going on there or something!”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense, actually.” Kurt closes his laptop and sets it on his bedside table. “I’m sure Casey never imagined such a thing.”

“No, I’m pretty sure he still has no clue!” Finn says, shaking his head. “I tried to talk to him a little bit about Karofsky, but he just looked really confused. I seriously think he’s got no idea that Karofsky’s, like, stupid in love with him.”

“In Casey’s defense, David is not the most emotionally available person we’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, but he punched Miles Brown in the face, and Casey doesn’t seem to understand why that might be any sort of clue about Karofsky’s feelings,” Finn says. “It’s sort of sad, really. Like, how long are they gonna go on like this? Nobody noticing that the other one’s all stupid in love, and then just randomly punching people about it.”

Kurt shrugs. “A long time, apparently? I’m not sure either of them are well-equipped to recognize it.”

“That’s just sad,” Finn says. “They’re kind of adorable and it’s just sad that everybody else has got it figured out but them. Oh, and I guess Brown must not realize it either.”

“Or Brown doesn’t _care_ ,” Kurt can’t resist pointing out. “We know he doesn’t exactly respect boundaries.”

“Yeah, he called Casey while we were at Pat’s,” Finn says. “I don’t know. Apparently that video thing is a _thing_?” 

“If someone needs instruction, there’s plenty on the Internet,” Kurt says blandly, trying very hard not to think about the videos on his phone. 

“Uh, yeah. On the Internet.” Finn, for some reason, has his guilty face on. “So, uh, maybe we should think about not having any more movie nights. They don’t seem to go so well.”

“I was thinking maybe, third time’s the charm?” Kurt shrugs. “Or we just don’t invite Brown.”

“Can we do that? I don’t think that’d be very nice. Anyway, Brown didn’t do anything the first time,” Finn says. “Maybe we just tell Karofsky and Casey, you know, no more movies for you guys. You can’t handle movie nights.”

“We can let them borrow the movies afterwards.”

“Maybe not even that,” Finn says. “Apparently the content is too upsetting to one or both of them. Like, any of the content. We should just pretend we’re not watching any movies at all, or just tell ’em it’s all lesbian movies.”

“Artie _really_ seemed to enjoy the lesbian movie,” Kurt comments with a snicker. “What about you?”

“Oh, I thought it was pretty funny,” Finn says. “Sorta… what’s it called when a movie’s making fun of something, but is kind of serious about it at the same time?”

“Satire?”

“Yeah, it was like that. Satire, I think.”

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “It was very satirical. It wasn’t horrible. I just really don’t care to watch lesbians kiss or, well, anything else, either.”

“Yeah, that was a little weird,” Finn agrees. “I mean, it’s not like we don’t see Santana and Brittany all over each other all the time anyway. I don’t see why Artie was so excited.”

Kurt shrugs. “Who knows. Obviously, I liked the second one better.”

“Yeah, I think I did, too,” Finn says. “It was sweet.”

Kurt feels like he should be tilting his head from side to side, but he just tries not to look too perplexed. “It was somewhat amusing how Sam and Artie and Taylor all fled the room as soon as Aaron’s shirt came off.”

“Oh, did they? I was wondering why they all came out of the kitchen when Karofsky punched Brown in the face,” Finn says. “If people taking off shirts upsets them, well, maybe Sam should reconsider the whole football thing, ’cause people take shirts off all the time. People don’t always wear shirts,” he adds, with a grin. 

Kurt laughs. “I think it was the taking off shirts with intent,” he manages to say. 

Finn shakes his head. “It wasn’t, like, graphic or anything. I don’t know. You guys stuck it out through the lesbians, you’d think people could manage a couple of minutes of naked dudes.”

“Double standards are still alive and well.” Kurt shrugs. “But yes, you would think. Perhaps we should find something even more enthralling for the next time. Which David and Casey are not invited to.”

“We could watch that one about the gay cowboys,” Finn says. “Didn’t it win some Oscars or whatever?”

“ _Brokeback Mountain_?” Kurt asks. “Well, that’s um. A good idea.”

“Or, I dunno, are there any other gay musicals? Nobody got too upset or punched or anything over _RENT_.”

“Well, there’s _The Birdcage_ , which is based on _Les Cage Aux Folles_ , but the movie isn’t actually a musical. And _Avenue Q_ , but there’s not a movie of it. Ooh, there’s the movie _Priscilla Queen of the Desert_ , and also _Were the World Mine_.”

“So, maybe we’ll pick some happy movies, and we won’t invite Brown, and maybe we could just invite Casey and not Karofsky, as long as there’s nothing that’s gonna make him cry,” Finn says. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I don’t mind hurting Karofsky or Brown’s feelings, though.”

“No,” Kurt agrees. “Can I be the one to tell Brown that he’s not invited?”

“Yeah, you _really_ don’t like him, do you?” Finn laughs. “Sure, you can tell him. Maybe I better tell Karofsky, since I’m the only one his size if he decides he’s still in a face–punching kind of mood.” Finn shakes his head. “And it seemed like he’d been doing so well, too.”

Kurt shrugs helplessly. “He did. And I have no reason to like Brown, so.”

Their phones both buzz with an incoming text, and Kurt reads it with a frown. “Letters to the editor?” He grabs his laptop and pulls up the page, scanning the letters to try to find what Puck is sending them to look at. “Oh. Well.” He slides the laptop across the bed towards Finn. 

“The fuck am I looking at?” Finn asks. “That’s just… that’s just ridiculous.”

“It’s rather creepy, actually. Did I miss the memo that I lived in a ‘Christian town in a Christian nation’? I would have sworn we have separation of church and state.”

“Yeah, I thought we lived in Lima, Ohio, not, like, the Vatican City or whatever.” 

“I’m sure the Baptist guy wouldn’t like the Pope, anyway,” Kurt shrugs, reaching for his phone to send a quick response back. Finn also taps out a quick response.

“I didn’t really have anything useful to say,” Finn says.

“I only did if you consider the suggestion of evisceration to be extraordinarily helpful,” Kurt laughs. 

“I just said ‘the fuck?’ ” Finn says. “So, you’re still one up on me.”

 

Business is slow for the first few hours, and then it picks up for a little while before Puck takes a short break, putting away the few newspapers scattered on the tables first. One of them is folded open, and as he’s folding it, Puck catches a few of the lines and stops to read it. 

_Our school system stands at a crossroads this month._

_If we continue on the narrow path, we can remain confident that our schools are schools of integrity and high morals. Young Christian men and women will continue to be able to share their faith and values with each other and with their classmates._

_If we turn, though, if the school board allows itself to be persuaded by wayward youth, our children will find themselves silenced, unable to speak out against immoral and indecent behavior. Their sincere attempts to share the gospel and the love of Jesus Christ will be labeled bullying and a punishable offense, even if it occurs off the school campus._

_Good people of Lima, talk to your school board members. Remind them that Lima is a Christian town in a Christian nation. As one of our Founding Fathers said, "We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately." In these trying times, we must stand together for decency and virtue._

_Pastor Robert Phillips  
Open Grove Independent Baptist Church_

“Fuck,” Puck mutters, and pulls out his phone. 

_Check the letters to the editor in today’s paper_

After a second’s thought, he adds Finn and Tina for good measure, then hits send. 

Tina responds first – _Just saw it online, ooh he’s awful!!_

Kurt’s is more pointed. _Evisceration? xx_

Finn’s reply is pretty simple. _the fuck???_

Puck snorts. Between the three of them, that sums it up nicely. At least they have a probable name to put with some of the things they’ve all heard, and sure enough, when that couple arrives later, they’re discussing “Pastor Phillips’ inspiring sermon on America” and how nicely it ties into his civic commitments and involvement through things like letters to the editor. 

Puck manages to hold his tongue, though, and serves them their drinks, though he does intentionally burn the milk before adding it to her chai latte. She’ll think it’s an accident; enough people do it accidentally often enough that it’s plausible. Sadly, the guy still just gets a regular coffee, which doesn’t give Puck any opportunity to fix it for him. 

They’re still there, slowly drinking, when Kurt arrives, leaning against the counter. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think it’s finally time.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah? Are you sure you’re ready for such a big step?”

“It _is_ a commitment,” Kurt nods, “but I think I can handle it. I do have a sweater with me if necessary.”

“One _iced_ drink, coming right up.” Puck grins and slides the drink across the counter as he finishes it, leaving the lid off so Kurt can scoop the whipped cream with his finger.

“Why thank you.” Kurt smirks and slowly slides his whipped cream–covered finger into his mouth. 

Puck groans. “Tease.”

“You’re off the clock in ten more minutes,” Kurt says. “That’s not that long.”

“I have to meet those people that emailed about the furniture,” Puck complains. 

“That is a problem,” Kurt acknowledges. “Oh, look, there’s John.” He waves at the older man. “John, you don’t mind if I take Nooahhh home now, do you?”

“Of course not. Get out of here, kid,” John laughs. 

Puck waves and heads to the bathroom, Kurt leaning on the wall outside the door. When he emerges, he takes Kurt’s hand and they walk slowly past the lovely couple from the crazy church. “We’ll see you Thursday,” Kurt says sweetly. 

Comprehension flits over both their faces, the woman looking shocked. She recovers first though, her gaze switching between the two of them and then down to their joined hands. “Yes,” she says finally. “I suppose we will.”

Kurt smiles humorlessly at them and they leave the store, heading for the apartment to wait for the person that emailed Puck about his furniture. They arrive just five minutes before she’s supposed to show up, so they sit on a bench instead of going inside. 

A few minutes later, a car pulls up nearby, and a woman climbs out, clutching a piece of paper in one hand. She looks up and down the parking lot before she notices Puck and Kurt, and calls out, “Are you the ones with the furniture?”

“Yes,” Puck calls back, standing up as he does so, then offering Kurt a hand. 

“Great! I was worried I was in the wrong place. I expected someone older,” she says. 

“Selling my stuff before college,” Puck explains, leading the way towards the stairs. “My mom and my sister are moving to a smaller apartment.”

“That makes a lot of sense. My stepson is moving in with us and we needed some furniture fast,” she explains. “The price was right. Can I take a quick look?”

“Sure,” Puck nods, and they head up the stairs and into the apartment, which is empty as it usually is on Sunday afternoons. “In here,” he gestures towards his room, then stands beside the door to let the woman walk in first. Kurt stands beside him, one arm loosely around Puck’s waist. 

“Oh, this is great! It’ll fit in our spare room perfectly,” she says. “Will you take $475?”

“Hmm,” Puck frowns. “It’s a little low. I need the money for college and everything,” he continues. 

“$500?”

Puck exchanges a glance with Kurt, who shrugs minutely. “Yeah, okay,” Puck finally says. “That’ll work.”

“Great! I can call my husband and see if he can bring the truck out and meet us, if that works for you,” she says. 

“Sure,” Puck nods.

The woman disappears back into the hall with her phone, and Puck leans against the doorframe. “Well, that’s that.”

“Need to take anything else out of the drawers?” Kurt asks softly. 

“Yeah, a few things,” Puck nods, and they remove the last of his clothes and books before he grabs a box and dumps the contents of the drawer of his bedside table into it. “Air mattress, I guess.”

“We’ll figure out a schedule and let Dad and Rina know,” Kurt nods. 

Puck nods. “We can do anything for a month or two. Made it this far.”

 

“I find myself strangely optimistic,” Kurt admits as he unlocks the Nav and the three of them climb in following rehearsal at Mike’s. 

“That’s a good thing, right?” Finn asks. 

“I think so?” Kurt shrugs and starts the engine. “As I said, _strangely_ , so I still have four weeks to change my mind.”

“So what are you optimistic about?”

“Everyone’s actually got their parts memorized. The choreography is relatively smooth. How did we manage that this far in advance?”

“He’s got a point, dude,” Puck laughs. “Usually it’s been a day–before thing, and even this year, we haven’t had it down this well this far out.”

“Magic,” Finn says, straight-faced. “Some kind of fairy wooju magic.”

“And here I thought I’d hidden my wings,” Puck smirks.

“Or,” Finn says, “and this might be crazy talk, it could be that we just suck way less than Mr. Schue does at this glee club thing.”

“Goodness!” Kurt gasps, sounding scandalized. “I can’t believe you’d suggest such a thing.”

“I know, right? I said it might be crazy talk.”

“Home or food?”

“Food, then home,” Finn says. “We can eat our food at home.”

“Any special requests?”

“Dairy King?” Puck throws out. “Milkshakes and burgers.”

“This is why I like Puck best,” Finn says. “Sorry, Kurt.”

“I _am_ the one driving you towards said milkshakes and burgers.”

“Ok, then I like you best. Sorry, Puck.”

“Fickle. You’re fickle,” Puck says matter–of–factly. 

“Yeah, well, you love it,” Finn says, shrugging. 

“It does keep us on our toes.” Kurt shrugs then rolls his eyes. “Good grief.”

“What?”

“That sign.”

“Oh, man. ‘WAYWARD YOUTH OF LIMA: REPENT AND TURN TOWARDS THE LORD’,” Finn reads. “In all capital letters, too. They must be pretty serious.”

“Are we wayward youth?” Puck jokes. “And does that mean we should turn around? I bet they’ll have some traffic problems.”

“Very wayward. I’m going to keep driving, though.”

“I’m not really even sure what repenting means,” Finn says. “Maybe I can call them tomorrow and ask for detailed instructions.”

“Make sure and record the phone call,” Puck suggests. “We can all laugh at it later.”

“We could put it on YouTube!” Finn says. “Oh hey, I should ask them what they think about the gay Prom King and Queen elections!”

“Can you be arrested for intent to cause harm, if they suffer a heart attack while you’re on the phone?” Kurt laughs. 

“I’ll make sure they know you’re not cross-dressing or whatever. Though, I mean, I can see Santana in a tuxedo, so maybe I shouldn’t promise them anything.”

“It’s not cross-dressing when it’s a girl wearing boys’ clothing, haven’t you noticed that?” Kurt says tiredly. “But I don’t think she’s going to wear a tuxedo this time.”

“Watch, her posters will have her in one,” Puck snorts. 

“What kind of posters are you guys having?” Finn asks. “The ones Quinn made for us last year were pretty lame.”

“Try _really_ lame,” Puck counters. 

“Text,” Kurt says. “No cheesy pictures. The internet tells me that we should bake cupcakes and hand out CDs, though.”

“I’m gonna say no on the cupcakes, dude,” Finn says. “I think that seems untrustworthy.”

“You’re just afraid of pot in them,” Puck laughs. “What about M&Ms? Can you tell us _why_ M &Ms?”

“Like those personalized ones? The ones you can get your names on? Or put pictures on?”

“Yeah, I guess?” Puck shrugs. “Uh. You’ve ordered picture M&Ms?”

“Rachel went on this big rant one time about how you can get them in gold and how you can get them with stars on them, and wouldn’t that be so _perfect_ for a wedding, and wouldn’t it be so _romantic_ ,” Finn says, sounding like he doesn’t think it would be anything like perfect or romantic. “I kind of tuned her out after a while, but custom M&Ms. That part stuck.”

“So you’re saying we _should_ go for personalized M &Ms?”

“Wait, I didn’t say that!” Finn says. “When did I say that? Don’t do that.”

“Okay, why not?” Puck shakes his head. “I’m confused.”

“Because… because… I don’t know why. It just bothers me, is all.”

“Not our faces, dude. That’d be creepy.”

“Still bothers me, dude.”

“Lollipops?”

“How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?” Kurt quips. “There’s a slogan waiting there, I just feel it.”

“I think that’s too suggestive,” Finn says, sounding miffed. 

“Is there _any_ food we can give out that you approve of?” Puck has to ask. 

“You should give out, like, beef jerky. Or Slim Jims.”

Puck looks askance at Finn and then turns towards Kurt as they part in the Dairy King lot. “Really, Finn?” Kurt asks. “Beef jerky?”

“Maybe pâté?” Puck ventures. “It’s, you know. Not something you buy at Speedway.”

“Why not beef jerky? It’s manly and you’re the all–male campaign.”

“What if they asked me to eat it?” Kurt replies. “We’re also, you know.”

“Not vegans?” Finn offers.

“It’s just so. Why not some nice filet mignon?” Kurt sighs as they walk into the building. “Maybe we should stick with the CD idea.”

Finn shrugs. “Can I help you pick out songs?”

“And you can help burn them,” Puck laughs. 

“Can I be your campaign manager?” Finn asks, suddenly very excited. “I can set up, like, interviews for you.”

“Sure,” Puck shrugs along with Kurt. “Just no personalized beef jerky.”

“Dude, that would be _awesome_ ,” Finn says. “But maybe I can just find somebody to help with your posters or something.”

“Probably a safer bet.”

 

“Puckerman, tell me this is a joke,” Lauren says, appearing out of nowhere as Puck walks towards class. 

Puck pivots slightly and raises his eyebrows. “Nope. But you shouldn’t imply my clothing is a joke.”

“Uh, yeeeah,” Lauren says, doing that little face–turn with the squinty eye she does when she knows you know she knows you’re bullshitting her. “Prom Queen. Tell me I am not running _against_ you.”

“I know it’s frightening for your chances.” Puck shrugs and grins. “You don’t think I can pull off the crown?”

“Oh, I think you’d look fabulous in it. I just wonder why, exactly, you’re doing it.”

“Well, there were really only five possibilities, and after Finn, Artie, and Sam all declined, Tina said Kurt couldn’t steal her man unless the two of them were a package deal, so…” Puck smirks. 

“Mmhmm,” Lauren says, giving him the squinty eye again. “And let me guess, matching set of crowns would make him happy?”

“Owning two that are exactly identical just wouldn’t be the same,” Puck says, voice purposely bland. 

“Aww, you’re sweet,” she says. “Hell, I might even vote for him myself.”

“I’m a prince,” Puck nods. 

“No, you’re not,” Lauren says. “I’m just not entirely sure you’re queen _enough_ , though.”

“Yeah, check back with me in six months or so,” Puck laughs. 

Lauren laughs, too. “I’ll do that, and then I’ll reassess. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick your ass in this campaign, though.”

“You can _try_ ,” Puck counters. “You’ll have to check in New York, though.”

“I’ll have to check in online then, ’cause I’m gonna be at Stanford, and that’s a hell of a drive.”

“Yeah? Awesome.” Puck stops as a thought occurs to him, and he laughs. “Yeah, you’re going to be close to Santana, though.”

“Well, won’t that just be a basket full of chuckles,” Lauren says, with a strained smile. “Though, I dunno. Maybe she and I can swap some stories.”

“And suddenly I’m even more glad that I’ll be on the East Coast,” Puck announces. “Well. Good luck with your campaign,” he smirks. 

“Same to you. Should we make one of those clean campaign deals or you guys want to play it dirty?” Lauren asks. “I’m good either way.”

“You _do_ realize who’s running for King, right?” 

“Ooh, it’s like that, huh?” Lauren punches him on the arm almost playfully. “Good for you, Puckerman. Good for you.”

“I have no complaints.”

“Well, may the best queen win.”

“Then I suppose,” Puck begins, starting to walk down the hallway again, “we already know the outcome, don’t we?”

Puck continues walking towards history, then stops where one hall joins the main corridor, a few people, including Taylor, standing around a locker. Puck backs up a few steps and turns, then sees what they’re looking at. 

“Well, fuck,” Puck can’t help but say. 

“They can’t even spell it right,” Taylor says, his voice strained. He’s right, too. _TRANY FREAK_ is scrawled across what Puck assumes is Taylor’s locker. 

“Do you want me to go get the janitor and see if he’s got some kind of spray?” one of Taylor’s friends offers. “I think there’s a spray for Sharpie.”

“Coach Beiste,” Puck says. “Get Coach.”

“He’s right,” Taylor agrees. “And Ms. Pillsbury, too.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do that,” and Taylor’s buddy goes springing off in the direction of Coach’s office. 

“You got a phone that can take a picture?” Puck asks Taylor.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Taylor sighs and pulls it out. “I know what I’ve read, I just— I guess I thought since I’d made it this far.”

Puck nods. “Yeah, I can understand that.” He looks down the hall and sees Taylor’s friend returning with Coach Beiste and Ms. Pillsbury both. “They’ll do as much as they can.”

“Yes.” Taylor slaps his phone absently against his hand. “Thanks, dude. I wouldn’t have thought about getting Coach or Ms. P.”

“Taylor, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Ms. P says, as she and Coach Beiste take a good look at Taylor’s locker. “Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

Taylor shakes his head. “I mean, yeah, some people have said stuff since the last meeting, but.” He shrugs. “No one specific. The worst one’s actually been Tracy Simms, but I don’t think she’d vandalize a locker, and well. She _can_ spell.”

“Baseball team?” Coach Beiste asks. “Johannson or Fordham, the sophomores? Any of them?”

“Maybe?” Taylor answers. “Not the baseball players. I guess I’m not interesting enough. I don’t know which ones for sure are Jojo and Fordham.”

“Jojo?” Beiste looks confused.

“Ah, Finn’s nickname for Johannson. It kind of caught on,” Puck explains sheepishly. 

Beiste appears to be trying hard not to laugh. “Right, okay. Well, they’re really big guys, one of them has a bum knee now.”

“Ohh, those two.” Taylor nods. “Yeah, sometimes. The one with the bad knee is worse, though.”

Puck isn’t sure he wants to know what “worse” means, and from the looks on everyone else’s faces, they aren’t either. 

“Worse how, Taylor?” Ms. P asks. “Do you want to come by my office and talk about this while Coach Beiste finds someone to get your locker cleaned up?”

“Sure,” Taylor looks relieved at the suggestion. “Thanks. Really.” He looks at the others and nods at each of them. He looks at Puck for a moment longer and raises one eyebrow. Puck fights a laugh and just nods. PFLAG gossip chain works well.

Taylor follows Ms. Pillsbury down the hall and Taylor’s friends slowly disperse as Coach Beiste walks towards the janitorial closet. Puck sighs and finally resumes his trek to history, though by now he’s well past the bell. Mrs. Vey looks at him inquisitively, and Puck opens his mouth, starting to explain, and then sighs, gesturing towards the hallway. “Just… yeah. You can ask Ms. Pillsbury.”

“All right.” Mrs. Vey seems to accept this, so Puck slumps into his seat beside Finn. 

“What now?” Finn asks. “More baseball players?”

Puck shakes his head. “Nope. Someone wrote on Taylor’s locker.”

“Shit. What’d they write?” Finn asks, though he sounds like he already has a good guess.

“Trany Freak. Yes, trany. T–R–A–N–Y.”

“So… a douchebag and a moron?”

Puck snorts. “Yeah, apparently. Taylor’s friend was going to go get the janitor, but I told him to get Beiste instead, and he snagged Ms. P too.”

“Smart one,” Finn says, pointing a finger at Puck. “Like I keep saying.”

“I try.” Puck shrugs. “Before that, I ran into Lauren, who seemed to be hoping my candidacy was a joke.”

“’Cause you’re gonna kick her ass?”

“She finally said ‘May the best queen win’, so.” Puck snorts.

“So what is that, like four, five people who _don’t_ know?” Finn laughs. 

“The biggest gossips and Ben Israel?”

“Sounds fair enough to me.”

“Whatever it takes to get through.”

 

Puck finds himself half–listening to Rachel prattle on about ideas she has for Kurt and him for their prom royalty campaign, and she gets so worked up he has to physically steer her through the halls at one point. 

“And you can order customized M&Ms in tiny customized packages!” she enthuses. “Whatever slogan you choose, you can have it printed on the bags!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Puck settles on. 

“Ooh, and you know what else you could do? Cupcakes with airbrushed pictures! You could bake those cupcakes you made sophomore year.”

“Which contained an illegal substance,” Puck says quietly. “So, no.”

“Noah!”

Puck shrugs. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I think I’ll pass on a repeat.”

“I should think so!” Rachel huffs, then tosses her head slightly as she changes the subject. “So are you going to perform today?”

“Not unless someone needs bat–guitar.”

“Oh,” Rachel says, sounding a little deflated. “Well, I’m going to perform a Broadway classic.”

Puck just nods and then whispers, “I’m shocked,” as Rachel walks away to sit down. 

Schue looks happily around the room and claps his hands together. “All right, let’s hear what you have, guys!”

“I have a song prepared!” Rachel springs back out of her seat excitedly. “I’m going to do the Broadway classic from _Jesus Christ Superstar_ , ‘I Don’t Know How to Love Him’.”

Puck shakes his head as Rachel performs an impassioned rendition of the song, which amuses Puck, because it’s not exactly like Rachel believes in Jesus. She’s followed in quick succession by Sam, doing Uncle Kracker’s “In a Little While”, and then Santana doing a song called “If I Were A Boy,” which just confuses Puck. Finally, Mike dances and sort of sings to Fatboy Slim’s “Praise You”, and then the bell mercifully rings. Rachel looks disappointed, which confirms Puck’s suspicion that she was contemplating performing a second time, since no one else seemed inclined. 

“Another exciting afternoon,” Kurt says dryly as they head towards the Nav.

“What, you don’t think a run, lunch, and class is exciting?” Puck feigns astonishment. “Kurt, I’m shocked.”

“Don’t forget work. I get to go to work, too,” Kurt sighs. 

“Yeah. I guess I’ll go through more stuff. It’s kind of weird.” 

“I can’t imagine,” Kurt shrugs. 

“I can’t describe it,” Puck laughs, sliding his hand into Kurt’s as they climb in the Nav. “But at the same time, I don’t know. Feels so inevitable.”

“Yes.” Kurt squeezes Puck’s hand before starting the engine. “One hundred and seven, give or take.”

“So we have a big party next Tuesday for breaking one hundred?” Puck grins. 

“Exactly.”

 

Rina doesn’t talk throughout the majority of dinner. Hannah keeps up a running monologue enough for the both of them, moving from her science project (progressing) to PE (softball now) to her favorite television shows (why are there reruns in April?) without missing a breath. Puck isn’t sure if Rina’s quiet because of Hannah or some other reason, but when they finish eating, she does send Hannah to get ready for her dance class before taking a deep breath. 

“So. Your furniture sold.”

“Yeah.” Puck meets Kurt’s eyes briefly and Kurt’s arm slides over his back when he brings the next load of dishes from the table. “It did.”

“So I imagine you’ll be here less from now on.”

“Well. Yeah.” Puck shrugs. “I figured still three or four nights until the end of the month, and then probably just two a week.”

“Am I supposed to guess which nights you will or won’t be here?” Rina asks sharply. 

Puck sighs and snags Kurt’s hand as he walks by, pulling him close. “I’ll be here on Tuesday nights,” Puck answers slowly. “Probably Wednesday nights and Sunday nights until you move. We’ll see how it’s going then. And we’ll still eat here on Sunday and Monday nights.”

Rina sighs heavily. “All right. Well. You’ll be around to help with the move?”

“The first Saturday in May?”

Rina nods. “Yes.”

“For at least part of the day,” Puck shrugs. “Prom’s that night.”

“Are you two… going?” Rina looks confused.

Puck smirks. “I’m running for Prom Queen.”

“That’s— _queen_?”

“If they can write in someone of the opposite gender, why not run that way?” Kurt answers her. 

“Exactly.”

“Well. All right. Okay.” Rina looks really flustered. “We’ll try to get everything done early, then.”

“We’ll ask my dad and Finn about helping,” Kurt says. “It shouldn’t take too long that way.”

“Yeah, see, Mom?” Puck nods. “It’ll be fine. You’ll be settled in by lunch.”

“Maybe not that fast,” Rina says dubiously. “Will the two of you be here when Hannah and I get back from dance class?”

“No,” Puck answers her. “Added another rehearsal on Monday nights. We have to be at Brittany’s at 7:30.”

“Oh.” Rina purses her lips. “Goodness, you all do rehearse a lot.” 

“We leave in a month, Mom. Four weeks from today. It’s not a lot of time.”

“I suppose not. All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Noah.” Rina wipes her hand on the dishtowel and leaves the kitchen without any further comment. 

Kurt steps in front of Puck, puts his hands on either side of Puck’s face, and then proceeds to kiss Puck firmly, his tongue running along Puck’s lips until Puck opens them. Puck brings his hands up to rest on Kurt’s hips and pulls Kurt flush against him as they deepen the kiss. Puck is vaguely aware of his mom and Hannah leaving, and then they slowly make their own way out of the apartment, stopping every few feet. They manage to leave the apartment but then Puck backs Kurt against the door, Kurt laughing between kisses. 

“We’re going to be late,” Kurt protests when they finally make it to the staircase. 

“Then you shouldn’t’ve started it.”

“Started what?” Kurt pretends at innocence, then pulls Puck back into a deep kiss. 

“Like I said,” Puck grins when they pull apart enough to go down a few stairs. “Don’t start it.”

“You look like someone just kissed you very thoroughly.”

“Imagine that.” Puck nips at Kurt’s earlobe. “So do you.”

“We probably shouldn’t skip rehearsal.”

“I think our absence would be noted, yes,” Puck says wryly. 

“Damn.”

Puck runs his hand down Kurt’s chest and squeezes his erection gently. “Want me to take care of that first, though?”

“God, yes, but.” Kurt stops and his breath catches. “Oh god. Fuck. Yes.”

“Thought you might,” Puck laughs, pulling Kurt to the side of the staircase at the bottom and then backing him against the wall, hands already on Kurt’s belt. “Right here, blue eyes. Anyone could walk in.”

“Fuck, please,” Kurt nods his head, and Puck pulls down Kurt’s pants and underwear just enough to free his cock. Puck drops to his knees, taking as much of Kurt into his mouth as he can, his hand wrapped around the base. “Oh, god, baby. _Fuck_ not going to last.” Kurt’s hand pets over Puck’s scalp and his hips jut forward. 

Puck wraps his tongue around Kurt and then slides it across the tip, his hand moving on Kurt simultaneously. Kurt whimpers slightly and Puck looks up to see Kurt biting his lip, his eyes closed and head tilted back just a bit. Puck grins around Kurt’s cock and closes his own eyes, resting his free hand against Kurt’s hip and stomach. He moves faster and when they hear footsteps outside the stairwell, Kurt jerks forward into Puck’s mouth again. 

“So close,” Kurt gasps, and Puck tightens his hand on Kurt, his mouth and tongue moving a little more rapidly. He slides his free hand down to cup Kurt’s balls gently, and with a final swipe of his tongue over Kurt, Kurt comes hard, his cry echoing off the concrete blocks lining the stairwell. 

Puck smirks as he licks Kurt clean, then tucks him back in, the only sign of their activities the still blissed–out look on Kurt’s face. “ _Now_ we can go to rehearsal,” Puck says with a grin. 

“Is that a new warm-up for the vocal cords, baby?” Kurt murmurs, wrapping an arm around Puck and leaning against him as they walk out to the Nav. 

“It is,” Puck agrees. “Plus it leaves you very relaxed.”

“That it does.” Kurt sighs when he checks the clock. “Crap, we really are going to be late.”

“Maybe we can convince them we thought it started at 8?”

“That might work on the ones that don’t know.” Kurt snorts. “We’ll blame it on, um. Prom!”

“Yeah.” Puck laughs. “We might get a couple of people to believe it.”

When they do get to Brittany’s, they’re more than fifteen minutes late, and Brittany’s mom opens the door for them with a smile, pointing them towards the din that they could have followed, too. 

They attempt to just slide into the room unnoticed along the wall next to the doorway, but Finn catches Puck’s eye and shakes his head. Puck widens his eyes, trying his best to look innocent. Finn rolls his eyes a little and then grins. 

“Oh, there you are!” Sam says loudly, or at least it seems loud to Puck. “What kept you?” Everyone turns to look at the two of them, and Puck almost winces at the very inquisitive looks on their faces. 

“Oh, you know.” Kurt shrugs casually. “We were discussing prom. Lost track of time.”

“Yeah,” Puck nods, “exactly. The internet said we should hand out lollipops so you know. We had to debate that.” He smirks in Finn’s direction as he speaks. “Apparently, as a candidate for Prom Queen, I should feel that the type and flavor is a matter of life and death.”

Finn snorts. “Yeah, that’s serious business right there. Everything turn out ok?”

“Yeah, I got that preference all sorted out.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you settle on?” Finn asks, smirking right back at Puck.

“You know, I think you’ll just have to wait like everyone else.” 

“Hey, now!” Finn protests. “I thought I was supposed to be your campaign manager or whatever. I think I’m supposed to know that kind of stuff before everybody else.”

“I’m sure if you think about it for a few minutes, you can figure it out.” Puck has to fight to keep from bursting out laughing. 

“Well, hope it’s a flavor everybody likes, dude.”

“You know, I guess we’ll just have to find out. Or.” Puck lets himself grin slowly. “Maybe they’ll be overcome with joy at the thought of, uh. Lollipops.”

“I know I can barely contain myself,” Finn says. “It’s a struggle not to fall on the floor and die from longing. For, like, lollipops.” 

“Don’t die before you vote, dude.”

“I feel as though we’re missing some essential part of this conversation!” Rachel suddenly exclaims, and almost everyone else does look perplexed. Kurt is barely containing his laughter, and Santana’s just smirking at everyone. 

“Prom campaign,” Finn says, like that explains everything. 

“Right,” Rachel nods slowly. “Okay. But we’re getting quite a late start! How are we doing this rehearsal?”

“Probably it’ll involve some singing,” Finn says.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks. “Because we’d hate to get, what was the phrase? Over–rehearsed? Stiff? I can’t remember.”

“We could just do a… what’s that thing? Where you read something dramatically?” Finn asks.

“Dramatic reading,” Kurt nods. 

“Oh, seriously?” Finn shakes his head. “That sounded too obvious. But yeah, we could just do that instead.”

“Finn!” Rachel huffs. “We can’t do a _dramatic reading_ of our show choir songs! And what are we doing for music?”

“Brittany has a kickass sound system,” Artie says. “We’ve got the cds. I think we’re probably going to be just fine for music, Rachel.”

Rachel almost looks disappointed that there isn’t a crisis centered around the music, but she just smiles slightly at Artie and nods before swinging her gaze back to Finn, staring at him intently. 

“Rach, we’re just going to sing through the set in the order we decided on, and see how the bridges work,” Finn says. “It’s pretty simple. It’s just singing, no dancing.”

“All right,” Rachel sighs. Puck isn’t sure why exactly she wants to add more drama, and just shakes his head as they wait for the music to play. 

 

Puck pulls Kurt from the bed earlier than he’d like, but with morning rehearsal, they have to get up early to still make it to Waffle House for breakfast. It’s funny, but Tuesday morning breakfast is one of the few things that Puck’s going to miss about Lima proper. Yeah, they’ll miss some of the people, but people can visit and be visited. There’s not even a Waffle House in New York. 

Rehearsal goes, as Kurt says, scarily smoothly, and Puck’s partway to history, talking about rehearsal with Finn, Sam, and Brittany, when he realizes he doesn’t have any of his homework in his backpack. Since he’s not exactly doing all of his homework these days, Puck decides it’s worth the detour to his locker for the notebook, and he turns back with several minutes to spare before the bell. 

He shoves the other notebook in his backpack and heads towards history, more or less lost in his thoughts when someone bumps into his shoulder. Puck looks up briefly and just has time to think that this might be one of the idiots on the baseball team when the guy stops and laughs harshly. 

“You know, faggot, you should watch where you’re going.” 

Puck freezes, watching him walk away without a glance back. There’s a part of his brain that insists it’s not a big deal, it’s just a _word_ , and it’s a word that he’s heard before, had directed at him before. Probably more than once, since he usually can’t hear the comments when they’re out somewhere besides Lima. It feels _different_ though. It’s not because he’s with his boyfriend, or because Jojo and Fordham wanted to throw themselves around, back in the fall. 

It’s just someone looking at him, and then labeling him, that fast. Not just the label, the slur. The hatred. 

Puck starts walking again, almost mechanically. His chest feels funny, like someone is sitting on his sternum, or maybe he took too hard of a hit playing football. He realizes with a start that he’s been walking in the wrong direction, and as he turns down a side corridor, he can hear everything nearby, crystal clear. His vision is almost fuzzy, and he knows that’s bad, but he can still hear, so he leans against the wall, listening and waiting for the bell. 

That turns out to be a bad decision, when he hears the word ‘fag’ suddenly, and it takes him a few more seconds to put the answering sounds together in his head. Kurt. ’Tana. They both brush it off, but he _knows_ both of them, knows what he hears in their voices, and he closes his eyes, giving up on seeing anything. 

Fuck, they must put up with it every day, put it behind them like nothing’s happened, and here he’s falling apart over one time, a second time. A second time ever. He clenches his fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. The pain reminds him that there’s probably a reason for it. Probably a reason the baseball player could just look at him and start tossing around that language. Not just PFLAG. Not just hanging out with Kurt. Him. 

And that random jerk hates him, or hates what he is, just because. 

Could say because of who he loves or who he kisses or how he likes to be fucked, but that guy doesn’t know any of that, not really. It’s just because. Just because he’s gay. 

Puck vaguely remembers that he’s supposed to be somewhere, that maybe leaning against this wall isn’t the best plan, especially since he’s sure now that the bell rang while he wasn’t noticing. He can’t really make anything work, though, and when he squints his eyes open, his vision is definitely weird, so he decides to just slide down the wall and sit there. 

His phone chimes, and the sound echoes weirdly in the hall, too loud and too far away at the same time. Puck slowly pulls out his phone and stares at it before reading the words on the screen. 

_You & kurt decide to skip?_

Puck frowns at it and shakes his head, then realizes he needs to actually type a response. 

_no_

The next text follows quickly.

_where are you_

Puck frowns again and leans his head back against the wall. He tries to figure out an answer, and then decides that maybe simple is better.

_hall_

_dude are u ok? what hall_

So much for simple. 

_Not really sure. Either._

_stay there_

Puck snorts once, because it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He wouldn’t have had time, anyway, probably, because Finn’s suddenly right there, taking a knee like he would out on the field. 

“Ok, here’s what’s gonna happen,” Finn says, his voice calm and smooth. “We’re walking to the bathroom. I’m standing up, and you’re standing up with me now, ok?” Finn starts to rise to his feet, looping an arm under Puck’s arm and around his back. Puck stands unsteadily, leaning against Finn, and nods. Finn murmurs something that might be “good job” and directs Puck to the nearest bathroom, arm still across Puck’s back.

Puck manages to make it into the bathroom and in front of the toilet before he pukes, leaning heavily against the wall with one arm. Finn hands him a damp paper towel, and Puck wipes his mouth with it before folding it over and pressing it against his forehead. He drops the paper towel into the trash after a minute and just stands there, breathing. Finn holds out a water bottle, and Puck accepts it, taking a long drink. Water bottle ninjas. Finn extends his hand in Puck’s direction one more time.

“You have to put your hand out,” Finn instructs. “Or I’ll drop it.”

Puck thinks about laughing, but instead just puts out his hand as instructed, and Finn places a Xanax on Puck’s palm. Puck half–nods and pops it into his mouth, draining the remainder of the water from the bottle. “Thanks,” he musters after that, still trying to focus mainly on breathing and standing upright. 

“Come on,” Finn says, in that same calm voice he’s been using. He puts his hand on Puck’s back, right between his shoulder blades, and directs Puck forward until they reach the choir room. Finn steers Puck to a chair and waits for Puck to sit before sitting down next to him. 

Finn puts his arm across Puck’s shoulders, moving his chair closer to Puck’s. He pulls Puck against him a little, wrapping his other arm around him, and the two of them sit there, Puck engulfed in a bear hug. Puck lets himself relax, neck relaxing last and his head falling onto Finn. They sit like that for awhile, though Puck’s not sure how long, until the bell rings. 

“You want to go to your next class?” Finn asks. “We can stay in here if you want.”

“Physics,” Puck answers. “Just Ms. P. Kurt.”

“Ok, that sounds good. We’ll go there, ok?” Finn finally releases Puck from the hug, though he keeps his arm across Puck’s shoulder for another moment, before helping Puck to his feet. Puck nods and walks with Finn out of the choir room, feeling more than a little out of it. 

When they get to the physics classroom, Kurt raises his eyebrows slightly, looking towards Finn, and there’s a moment of silence, Finn’s head moving a little, before Finn gently pushes Puck towards Kurt. 

“Call or text,” Finn says. “Seriously.” Kurt nods and pulls Puck’s stool close to his, his fingers tracing some kind of pattern on Puck’s leg. 

“Hi, baby,” Kurt murmurs quietly. 

“Hi.” Puck leans his head on one hand and looks at Kurt, then grins for the first time in a little while. “You did change shirts.”

“I did.” Kurt smooths the front of his T-shirt with a smirk. It says, simply, _Queens Aren’t Chosen. They’re Born._ , and on top of the tight jeans and wide belt, there’s still a little shadow of a bruise on Kurt’s neck. 

“I like it.” Puck puts his head all the way onto his arms as Ms. P suggests they all continue working at their own pace. He sighs a little, feeling too wrung out and done for it to just be second period.

“You going to skip English?”

Puck grunts, thinking. “Shouldn’t, but yeah.”

Kurt nods, and his hand on Puck’s thigh stills as Puck drops his own own hand on top of Kurt’s. “Forty-seven,” Kurt whispers after a moment, turning his hand palm up and lacing his fingers with Puck’s. “And some of that is weekends. And Nationals.”

“Right.” Puck sighs and nods. They just have to get out of here. 

 

Kurt walks with him towards the choir room after Ms. Pillsbury lets them out a few minutes ahead of the bell, and Puck collapses near the back of the room onto the floor, then pulls out his earbuds and pillows his head on his backpack. He already knows he’s going to take another Xanax before PFLAG, but it couldn’t hurt to sleep a little off. He puts on some music and lets himself drift off. 

The next thing he knows, he’s listening to Arcade Fire and blinking up at Santana. “Uh. Hi?”

“What are you doing down there?” Santana demands. 

Puck exhales and shakes his head, slowly sitting up and removing his earbuds. “Sleeping.” He yawns. “Is it fourth period already?”

“Almost.” 

“Huh.” Puck moves into the chair nearest him and vaguely registers Brittany sitting down beside him. She pets at his shoulder for a moment and Puck musters up a smile before she moves back to where Santana is. He rummages in his backpack for a minute and then walks down the hall to grab a pop, chugging half the can before he gets back to the choir room. The bell rings as he sits back down, and Santana turns around. 

“Did you go to any class today, Puckerman?”

“Physics.” Puck raises his eyebrows. “You enforcing attendance now?”

“Just wondering.” She rolls her eyes but looks weirdly satisfied at his answer as she turns back to the front. 

“Whatever.” Puck downs the rest of the pop and leans back, letting his eyes close again. At least rehearsal should be calmer than most of his day so far. 

 

Finn’s not sure if Puck is sleeping or still doped up on his meds or just zoned out from his panic thing earlier, but whatever it is he’s doing with his eyes closed and his can of pop, he looks a lot calmer than he did earlier, so that’s a good thing. He doesn’t know what set Puck off, but it had to be pretty bad. Puck hasn’t freaked out that bad in a long time, and Finn isn’t sure he’s ever seen Puck so totally helpless and out of it as when Finn found him in the hallway. 

He drops into the seat next to Puck. “You asleep or awake, dude?” 

Puck cracks his eyes open and his lips quirk slightly. “At the moment, awake.”

“Feeling any better?”

Puck tilts his head back and forth like Kurt always does when he’s thinking about something, and it’s kind of hilarious. “Yeah. Hard not to.”

“That’s good. Gonna be able to sing today or are you just sorta already doing what you plan to do during rehearsal?” Finn asks, because there’s a good chance that Puck’s not going to be super music guy today.

“Hmm.” Puck makes a face and shrugs. “Singing, sure. Dancing, I don’t know.”

“I’m gonna tell Rachel we’re trying rehearsing while lying around with our eyes closed,” Finn says. “Think she’ll buy it?”

“Not after the undress rehearsal thing, dude.”

“Damn. Well, I’m telling her anyway and we’ll see what happens. I’ll use my ‘I’m telling the truth’ face.”

“Right.”

The timing is pretty funny, because Rachel comes storming in looking worried and heads straight to Puck. “Noah, where were you during English class today? I know senioritis is spreading rapidly, but I did think you would at least put in an appearance!”

“Uh.” Puck blinks at her, like he’s not entirely sure how to answer her or like he can’t make any sense out of why she’s standing all up in his personal space like that.

“Rach, back off,” Finn says. “Seriously. Look at him.”

“I just.” Rachel starts, making a face at Finn before she actually does look at Puck again, and she must see something or realize something. “Sorry, Noah,” she says more quietly. “It just seemed odd.”

“I’m odd,” Puck manages. 

Kurt walks up to Rachel then and raises one eyebrow, standing there silently until she moves, and then Kurt sits down on the other side of Puck. “Sleep any?” Kurt says very quietly, and Puck nods. 

Everybody else shows up at some point, and before long, they all start giving Finn that look that means it’s time for him to turn on the Leadership Qualities smile and stand up there like he knows what the hell he’s doing. Honestly, all Finn really wants is to maybe lean his head over on Puck and take a nap, because that sounds awesome, and even if he didn’t have a panic attack thing, the day was still kind of stressful. 

Instead of a nap, though, Finn gets up and stands at the front of the room. “So, I don’t feel like doing any more dancing today,” Finn announces. “I think I, like, pulled something this morning. We’re just singing today and if you don’t like it, I’ll tell you what I think I pulled and you can rub it for me.” He makes a vague gesture towards his butt and raises his eyebrows. “Well, since there’s no volunteers, I’m gonna sit down and we’ll sing through the set a few times.”

They sound pretty good. No, they sound freaking fantastic, actually, and Finn even manages to put on a big sappy smile for his duet with Rachel, which feels progressively weirder to be singing with her, but whatever. They sound great. Even Puck looks perkier by the time the period is over, though Kurt still looks like he’s got his panties in a knot about something. Maybe Puck told Kurt what he was so upset about. Maybe Finn should ask Kurt about it later to find out if it’s something Finn should see about handling. 

 

Puck is grateful to Finn for stopping rehearsal a little early, which gives Puck a chance to down another Xanax before facing the gauntlet of PFLAG. He decides this was way too prudent when he steps into the room just behind Kurt and sees the Browns unloading food. Right. Brown. And Karofsky. In the same room. Two days before the school board meeting. 

Puck wonders if there’s a special prayer to say for the inventors of medications. 

“Brown,” Kurt says coolly, then continues in a warmer tone. “Alicia. Thank you for—” He stops and stares at the food. “This is supposed to be lunch, Brown, not a dessert buffet.”

“People like sweet things,” Brown says, shrugging. “Besides, desserts’ll make everybody happy. Don’t you want happy at your meeting?”

“Happiness might be a bit inappropriate for the subject matter,” Kurt responds, rolling his eyes. “Between the meeting on Thursday and the Day of Silence on Friday, no, I don’t know that _happy_ is what I want. _I_ want every single person to walk out of here _angry_. If they’re even a quarter as angry as I am, then I’ll be satisfied.”

“Well, I’m sure at least one person’ll appreciate the sweets,” Brown says. “Getting ’em pissed off is your job. Mine was food.”

Puck rolls his eyes and snorts. Yeah, right. One person. No one would ever guess who that was. He looks at Kurt as he sits down, and Kurt rolls his eyes, too, nodding. 

“Oh, is that what it is?” Alicia says. “And here last night it was all just ‘Cherry this’ and ‘Cherry that’.”

“Busted,” Puck sings out under his breath.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Brown says, glaring at Alicia. “Just, he might have been a little traumatized by that terrible display of violence at movie night, is all. Somebody needs to be looking out for him.”

“And you’ve appointed yourself for that job. Touching.” Puck rolls his eyes again. “Always good to focus on the larger issues, Brown.”

“I’m a humanitarian, Puckerman,” Brown says. “Helping my fellow man and all of that.”

“There’s help and there’s being a jackass,” Puck says cheerfully, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s probably talking too much. “Just saying that considering everything else, you worrying about getting into Casey’s pants is probably a little selfish.”

Brown looks taken aback and it takes him a moment to recover enough to respond. “I don’t know where you got some kind of crazy idea like that,” seems to be the best he can come up with.

Alicia laughs. “Oh, big brother. You have to admit…” she trails off. 

“What?” Brown actually looks a little confused. “What do I have to admit?”

Brown is saved from their further inquiry when most of the rest of the glee club comes in through the door. “You have to admit you have lousy taste in clothing,” Santana says, seemingly off the cuff. 

“Woman, you wouldn’t even know how to dress yourself without Sylvester picking your uniforms out for you,” Brown snaps right back at her. He seems relieved to have the distraction. 

“Which would be amusing if it weren’t inaccurate.” Santana rolls her eyes. “Not in a uniform. Are you blind? That would explain some things.”

“I can see you’re not in a uniform and that’s my point exactly. Please, put the uniform back on and spare us all.”

“Hey, Brown!” Rick suddenly says. “Your mom make those little cupcake things?”

Puck thinks that maybe Rick is smarter than they’ve been giving him credit for, because if Brown kept laying into Santana, he was going to have Santana, Puck, and Karofsky all beating him up, and from the look on Alicia’s face, maybe his sister, too. 

“What are you talking about, Foots? What little cupcake things?” Brown shakes his head at Rick, but turns away from Santana to look where Rick is pointing. “Those are muffins.”

“This is a very interesting selection of food,” Rachel says almost obliviously. “I’m not sure if I’m looking at lunch, dessert, or maybe a brunch?”

“Brown has difficulty with directions, apparently.” Kurt shrugs. 

“Oh, hey! Awesome!” Finn says, as he enters the classroom and notices the food table. “I love desserts for lunch! This is so much better than—” He stops abruptly and looks over at Rachel, who is still surveying the table critically. “Some, uh. Other foods we’ve had.”

“It’s so we’ll all be _happy_ apparently,” Kurt says dryly. 

“Yeah, desserts make me pretty happy,” Finn says. “But… you don’t sound happy.”

“I was going more for righteous anger than Kumbaya,” Kurt sighs. 

“Plenty to be mad about,” Puck nods. 

“Can I be mad and still have muffins?” Finn asks. “Ooh! Sugar cookies with sprinkles! Can I eat those and still be mad?”

“Since you can multitask, certainly,” Kurt says, struggling not to look amused. 

“I’m a great multitasker. I’ll be, like, super pissed while I eat all this.”

For once, Casey enters the classroom first, Karofsky following behind him. “Oh, David, look! Cookies! Isn’t that great?”

“Hey, Cherry,” Brown says. “Yeah, me and my sister brought food today. You should get you some cookies. My Ma made ’em. You can just ignore that vegetable salad thing, though. That was all Alicia, and between you and me, I think cookies are a fine lunch.”

Karofsky looks even more like he wants to hit Brown, and at the moment, Puck wouldn’t blame him a bit. He doesn’t say anything, though, just turns pointedly away from the food and sits down in his regular seat. Casey looks at the table full of desserts and then over at Karofsky, then back over at Brown.

“You want to get some cookies and come sit by me, Cherry?” Brown says. “We can chit-chat a little. You know, I’ve been worried about you since all that stuff went down on Saturday night.” He rests his hand on Casey’s arm. Puck glances back at Karofsky who looks ready to explode Brown with his eyes, maybe. 

Casey looks over at Karofsky, then back at Brown, then over at Karofsky again. When he looks back at Brown again, his face looks harder than Puck remembers ever seeing. “Miles, I _told_ you I’m not talking about this with you.” He turns his back on Brown and practically marches over to Karofsky, throwing himself down into his usual chair. Casey rests his hand on the back of Karofsky’s for just a moment, like he’s reassuring him or something, then he crosses his arm and makes a face that’s probably meant to be a glower. 

“This is fascinating,” Puck blurts without thinking about it. “Pre–meeting entertainment.”

Finn and Kurt both turn to stare at Puck, looking at him like they want to say “What the fuck?” Puck just shrugs. It’s _true_.

While the miniature drama has been playing out, most of the regular attendees have entered the room, along with a few new faces who are mostly sitting with Taylor. There’s some noise at the doorway, and Puck narrows his eyes when he realizes it’s Jewfro, complete with camera guy and microphone. 

“This is a McKinley High student club, open to all students!” he’s saying to Ms. Pillsbury. “And I am a student!”

“Jacob, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you into this classroom,” Ms. P says. “I just don’t feel like we can trust you to abide by the confidentiality policy.”

“So this is open to everyone except me! This is discrimination! It’s because I’m Jewish, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s because you’re a jerk and a member of the press,” Puck calls. “See, Jew. Also Jew,” he adds, pointing to Rachel. “Go away now.”

“Mr. Ben Israel, while I wouldn’t word it that way, you do act as a representative of the press more than you do as a student,” Coach Beiste says. “Aren’t you very commmitted to your press activities?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“So I think you ought to consider yourself a member of the press and abide by the rules the rest of the press follows.”

“I just wanted to hear some reactions to the protesters!” Jewfro calls over his shoulder as he turns away, and Puck frowns. Protesters?

“Protesters?” Kurt asks once Jewfro seems to be out of listening range. 

“They’re across the street from the school,” a girl who might be one of the maybe–lesbians from movie night says. “They had some signs, something about kids having a right to their beliefs? One of them just said ‘repent’ in big red letters.”

“ ‘No gay clubs’ was another one,” Karofsky grumbles. “Not many of ’em, maybe eight or nine.”

“Charming,” Kurt sighs. “I’m sure one of them was the letter–writing preacher.”

“He’s an asshole,” Puck agrees. 

“So how was movie night?” one of the A/V Club members sitting near Lauren speaks up. “How were the movies?”

“ _But I’m a Cheerleader_ was great,” says the same girl who explained about the protesters, then she turns to the girl sitting next to her and the two of them giggle. “Then Dave and Miles got into a fistfight over Casey in the middle of _Latter Days_.”

Karofsky, Casey, and Brown all three look shocked, as if it never occurred to any of them that it was actually about Casey, which is pretty damn funny in Puck’s opinion. Casey turns bright pink and even Brown looks flustered.

“Now,” Brown says, looking a little pinched. “Now. That’s not _exactly_ what went down. It wasn’t really, I mean. That’s a very limited interpretation of the data, is all I’m sayin’.”

Alicia looks like she’s really enjoying her brother’s discomfort, and Puck wants to laugh because, yeah, more drama. On the other hand, it’s the same drama, so that’s a little boring. “Didn’t we cover this already?” Puck asks. 

“You’ve sure got plenty to add about everything today, Puckerman,” Brown says, slouching down in his chair and looking petulant. “You people are the biggest bunch of gossips I’ve ever set eyes on. Don’t you know this meeting is supposed to be about some kind of issue or something?”

“Now he remembers,” Kurt says under his breath, and Puck snorts in agreement. 

“Hey, Kurt,” Lauren calls out suddenly. “I like the shirt. Shouldn’t your running mate be wearing that, though?”

“No,” Kurt says sweetly. “You know, prom is just one night, but I’ll have _this_ title for a lifetime.”

“Fair enough,” Lauren says. “So, agenda for today?”

“A quaint idea,” Kurt nods. “Holding the meeting. Yes. Let’s do introductions quickly?” He raises an eyebrow. “Kurt.” He nods to his right, which means Finn and Puck get to go last. Everyone introduces themselves without too much commentary. 

“Yep, still Puck,” Puck offers as they finish. “At least for a few more months. One hundred and six days.”

“Until… what?” Sam asks, then shakes his head. “Sorry. After the meeting, I know,” he continues, glancing at Kurt. 

“Please,” Kurt nods towards Sam, and Puck wonders if maybe Sam will just forget about it. Kurt clears his throat after that. “Tina, if you’ll talk to us a bit about Thursday, and then we’ll discuss Friday’s events as well as anything else that anyone needs to talk about.”

“Sure!” Tina nods. “So Brittany and Taylor and I met on Sunday afternoon and looked at everything we had from the school board, and looked over all the names we had. We’ve come up with eight names and their order. The school board did decide that for this, they are going to allow sixteen total speakers—eight on our side, and eight for the opposition—but each speaker only gets three minutes. Please, please keep that in mind when you’re preparing.”

“And if you have note cards, you should staple them together,” Brittany says. “And then staple them to your sleeve, so you don’t drop them like Finn did.”

“Maybe not to your sleeve,” Tina winces slightly. “But a single sheet of paper might work better for some of you?” She pauses. “Also, the school board is officially expecting between two and three hundred people. Because of that, there will be some of us there as soon as school lets out. There’s no guarantee that we’ll all get in the main room, though. Please don’t be disappointed if you aren’t, but also, please dress appropriately or bring appropriate clothing, because you very well might be.”

“That means ties,” Puck says. 

“Boo! Ties!” Finn adds around a mouthful of muffin.

“Yes,” Tina nods. “It does mean ties. For the men. And for any women who just like ties.”

“Are there any specific talking points the speakers should consider?” Kurt asks.

“Oh, right! I need to tell you guys who _is_ speaking!” Tina shakes her head at herself. “Ms. Pillsbury, you’ll lead us off. Casey,” Tina turns slightly. “You’ll be speaking second, if that’s all right with you?”

Casey makes a little squeak, but then composes his face into what’s probably supposed to pass as nonchalant. “Yes. That’s good.” Karofsky doesn’t react at all, which is sort of notable; Puck thought surely he’d scowl or look encouraging or something. 

“Great!” Tina continues down the list. “Sam, you’ll follow Casey, and then number four will be Kurt. Alicia’s mom volunteered to speak and she’ll be the fifth speaker.” Puck has to suppress a laugh at Tina’s rather pointed exclusion of Brown. “Quinn, you’re sixth, and Rachel, seventh. Our last speaker will be Reverend Hunter from St. Luke’s Lutheran.”

Puck starts a little, surprised Quinn would volunteer. It’s an interesting mix of speakers, though he guesses Tina has a specific plan for both who is speaking and in what order. 

“I will be happy to speak at that part of the evening,” Rachel nods. “Will we all present before the opposition, after the opposition, or will we be interspersed with their speakers?”

“We’ll be split into two groups. Four of us, four of them, then a short — well, intermission, I suppose!” Tina laughs. “Then the other four of us, followed by their final four speakers.”

“Will we have any chance for a final rebuttal of points brought up?” Kurt frowns. 

“At the end, each side gets one speaker for rebuttal. Considering we go first, perhaps we could be last for that.” Tina shrugs. “That wasn’t clear from the information I got.”

“Um. You said two or three _hundred_?” Casey says, suddenly. “People? Two or three hundred _people_?”

“That’s right,” Tina nods. “By my estimates, depending on how many of you show up,” she glances around the room and grins again, “we’ll probably have around one hundred to one hundred thirty for our side.”

“Oh.” Casey’s eyes look huge and reaches over to grab Karofsky’s hand without actually looking in his direction. 

“The room will be the same room,” Taylor says. “I mean, some people will be in other rooms watching it on television or whatever. But the meeting itself and where you speak, that’s the same as last time.”

“Oh. That’s not so bad, then,” Casey says. 

“Tina, can you send out an email summarizing the important information?” Kurt asks. 

“Sure!” Tina agrees. “I’ll do that after school today. And I’ll see all of you on Thursday afternoon,” she adds, her gaze a little steely as she looks around the room. 

Kurt nods. “Now, Friday is the Day of Silence. We’ll meet here before school and officially start the Day of Silence with the first bell.” He gestures to a stack of stickers and cards. “We have cards to hand out, as well as stickers. In theory, all the teachers have been informed of the event. Questions?”

“Can we talk if there’s an emergency?” one of the girls from the last movie night asks.

“A true emergency?” Kurt says. “Of course. On the other hand, please consider your definition of an emergency before breaking the silence.”

“So, ‘oh my god, I’m on fire’ emergency, not ‘my stockings have a run’ emergency?” asks the maybe–dyke who brought up Brown and Karofsky’s fist fight earlier. 

“Essentially, yes,” Kurt agrees. “Other questions?”

“Yeah, you want us to bring posters again this time?” Brown asks. “You didn’t say before.”

“We have official posters for the Day of Silence,” Kurt answers, raising one eyebrow. “Your… artistic endeavours are unnecessary.”

“Nah, I mean for the meeting. You didn’t say, and I was just now thinking about it,” Brown says, with an exaggerated shrug. 

“Tina?” Kurt looks at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. “What did the three of you decide?”

“We decided that since we know the other side will have certain types of signs, perhaps we’d forgo them this time,” Tina answers. “It’s another way to distinguish ourselves from them.”

“All right,” Kurt nods. “Back to the Day of Silence. Further questions about _it_?”

“Did we get the stickers?” Brittany asks. 

“We did,” Kurt answers with another nod. “And we’ll try to let everyone know exactly where and when for the Night of Noise by Thursday night at the latest.” 

“You don’t have a location?” Coach Beiste speaks up from the back of the room. Kurt shakes his head, and Beiste continues. “Why don’t you use the football field? I’m sure somebody here can run the sound system and it should be nice enough weather.”

“I can handle that,” Artie says. 

“Okay, great. We’ll convene on the football field around 3:30 or so, then,” Kurt says, and there’s some general agreement. He shoots a glance across Puck at Finn. “We can’t rehearse until we break the silence, so.”

“We’ll do it in the morning before the bell,” Finn says. “It’s cool.”

“Good,” Kurt nods. “All right. Since we’re talking so much about bullying and name-calling and everything—” He sighs. “How bad is it?”

“Baseball team’s got a bug up their asses,” Finn says. “I had a run-in with a guy and it wasn’t the first trouble we’ve had from them. Anybody else having a problem with those guys?”

“Someone wrote on my locker,” Taylor responds, “but I don’t know who. They can’t spell, though.”

“Some of you know about the assholes that were mean to Britt,” Santana says. “They were all baseball players, but it’s not like they’re the only ones.”

“Our favorite greeter isn’t a baseball player,” Kurt says, sighing. 

“What greeter?” Finn asks, frowning.

“How’s he put it?” Santana says. “Usually it’s ‘Hey, it’s the school fags’ but occasionally he gets creative and drops the ‘hey’ or adds a few more words. Not a real inventive guy.”

Well, fuck. Puck doesn’t particularly like being right, not about something like this, but the overheard exchange had seemed entirely too normal for both Kurt and Santana. 

“I’m gonna find him,” Finn mutters. “I am gonna show him what inventive looks like.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Kurt says. “We’ve heard worse. He’s just talk.”

“Hard to talk with no teeth,” Finn says, under his breath. 

“I’m going to hell,” Casey pipes up suddenly, and everyone’s head swivels in his direction. “Maybe after I get AIDS or maybe before. That parts changes, depending on the day.” He doesn’t even sound particularly upset about it, like it’s just a normal part of his day to hear stuff like that. 

Karofsky scowls and turns to him. “Case, you said—”

“And I do, when it’s bad,” Casey says. “This is just regular. I told you the first time. It didn’t change much after that.”

Karofsky looks stung for half a second before just nodding. 

“So, then,” Kurt says. “It’s bad, and it’s not just one or two people.” He sighs. “Any physical violence? Threats or damage to people? Property is bad, like Taylor’s locker, but.”

“What happened to Brittany,” Santana reminds them. “But no one’s repeated that mistake. And they’d better not.”

“Threatening to sexually assault somebody is still a violent threat,” Lauren adds. “Everybody remember that. It’s just like somebody saying they’re going to hurt you in some other way. It needs to be reported.”

“Right,” Kurt agrees. “Please, everyone. I don’t want to be alarmist, but report things.”

“And it’s not just one gender that can be sexually assaulted,” Tina says quietly. “ _Everyone_.”

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “I should have clarified.” He looks around the room inquisitively. “Anyone else?” After a moment, Kurt speaks again. “All right. See most of you Thursday afternoon, and hopefully everyone here Friday morning.” 

There is a lot of conversation as the meeting breaks up, and Puck just stays where he’s sitting while the room more or less empties out. He shakes his head at Kurt’s expression as Brown bundles up the remaining desserts to take with him. “That wasn’t really lunch.”

“No,” Kurt agrees. “I’ll bring something back with me. Or should we run to Joey’s really fast?”

“Should?” Puck shakes his head. “But let’s do it anyway. I gotta get out of here for a little while.”

“I’m sure Ms. P would okay you leaving,” Kurt says softly. 

“Yeah, okay,” Puck agrees after a moment. Kurt slips over to talk to Ms. Pillsbury and then nods, so Puck crosses the room and leaves with Kurt. “Hell of a day.”

 

Puck doesn’t accomplish anything else for the remainder of Tuesday. They eat lunch and he sleeps more while Kurt goes to his dual enrollment class, and then they spend the rest of the time until dinner in bed. After dinner is in bed, too, as it happens, but it’s with actual clothes on, nominally watching a movie. 

Wednesday morning starts out draggy, but luckily there aren’t many people coming into Starbucks, and by the time Puck makes it through physics, he’s more awake. Not so awake that he doesn’t stop and get a pop before English. His English teacher just rolls her eyes; half the class at least has a pop or a snack or something else they really shouldn’t have in the classroom according to the rules. 

Puck has to agree with Kurt’s assessment that rehearsal is going scarily well, and it doesn’t even seem like the addition of shoes will foul them up terribly. Once rehearsal is done, Puck and Kurt head towards the parking lot along with Mike and Tina. 

They’re not quite to the Nav or Tina’s car when they see Casey standing in front of the Trans-Am, red-faced and looking furious. “Oh great,” Puck mutters to the other three. “Are we going to find Karofsky and Brown going at it again?”

“I hope not,” Mike answers, voice also low. “I don’t think all four of us together could hold back Karofsky.”

“I was going to cheer him on,” Kurt says. “I mean, I would walk slowly back to the school to get the proper authorities.”

As they get closer, though, they can see Karofsky standing near Casey, not beating anyone up, and then they can hear Casey. 

“They messed with my car, David! They _messed_ with my _car_!” he’s yelling, and there might even be an angry foot stomp. “I am going to _find_ them. I am going to _run them over_! _WITH THIS CAR_!”

“Oh, my,” Kurt says under his breath. 

“I don’t want to know,” Puck agrees, but they keep walking towards Casey regardless, stopping a few feet from Casey. 

It’s sadly pretty much what Puck was dreading – big red spraypainted letters on the windshield of the Trans-Am, spelling out ‘FAG’. 

“Shit,” Mike breathes, summing it up pretty well. 

“I’m going to go get Ms. P,” Tina says. “And Coach, and – I don’t know. People.” She turns and heads quickly back to the school. 

“I am really, really sick of that word,” Puck says, and he grabs Kurt’s hand. 

“Is it dry?” Kurt asks quietly. 

“Mostly,” Karofsky grunts. 

Casey’s volume increases, and his angry foot stomp turns into actual stomping around the car, fists balled up. “I’ll run them over _twice_ and then I’ll run over _all their things_ and then I’ll _tar_ them and I’ll _feather_ them, like… like _cowboys_ or something!”

“That’s… colorful,” Puck says. “Where do you even get tar?”

“Road crews?” Karofsky suggests.

“We could steal a barrel for him when we get the jackhammer?” Kurt says mildly. 

“I bet some of those Amish farms have plenty of feather beds,” Puck nods. “It won’t be hard to get the supplies for him, then.”

“Uh.” Mike looks really confused, like this was not the conversation he was expecting. “Roofing companies have tar, too.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Karofsky nods. “Good idea. I think there’s a roofing company near my dad’s office.”

Mike is still looking at them oddly, and Kurt’s mouth twists in an approximation of a smile. “You have to laugh, Mike. You have to joke, because what’s the alternative?”


	4. Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's fine. It's fine. Everything's fine.

Casey wakes up and finds himself curled into a ball against David’s side, David’s T-shirt clutched between his fingers and, he realizes when he moves his foot ever so slightly, a fold of David’s pajama pants is caught between Casey’s big and second toes. He gives only the briefest consideration to unwinding himself before deciding that he’d really rather just stay right here, possibly forever, but definitely until David wakes up at the very least. Casey could curl up next to David and smell his warm, woodsy smell all day, except for the whole church and having to actually get out of bed thing. Well, and the whole David waking up eventually and possibly being very confused thing.

David moves a little, his fingers twitching in his sleep, and then lets out a deep sigh. Casey holds very still. David’s arm wiggles, then both feet. “Hmmm,” he breathes, clearly still mostly asleep.

Holding still is a lot more difficult than Casey would have thought, because David not quite awake is cute and funny, and Casey has to work really hard not to laugh at his wiggling feet. David yawns and his eyes blink open. “Dark.”

“Your room,” Casey says, softly. “Not my room. Sorry.”

“Oh.” David sounds slightly confused. “Why sorry?”

“Maybe? Um. Not supposed to come in here?” Casey’s not sure if there are rules about this. They’ve sort of been making it all up as they go.

“What?” David squints and rubs at his eyes. 

“Your room. I don’t usually. At night. Well, never.”

“Huh.”

“Is it okay? That I did?”

“Sure?”

David still sounds confused, but Casey will accept the answer. “Okay then.” He waits a moment to see if David’s going to say anything else, and when he doesn’t, Casey asks, “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah,” David nods. “You?”

“Yes. Your bed is nice.”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

“It’s bigger. You should probably, um. Sleep in it. More than you do.”

“Oh.” David pauses for a minute. “Yeah, okay.”

“Well. I mean. We both fit in it. Without parts of you having to hang off of it,” Casey says. “You know, is all.”

“Right.” David’s voice still sounds a little odd, and there’s a funny pause before he starts talking again. “You want pancakes for breakfast?”

Casey knows he’s said something wrong or done something wrong. “Um. Maybe coffee?”

“Oh.” David sighs again. “I guess we can just have eggs or something here.”

“We can eat pancakes. I like pancakes.”

“Yeah.” David rubs at his eyes and slowly sits up. “I know you do.”

Casey sits up, too, and he looks at David’s face, frowning. “Oh, David,” he says, quietly. “Your poor face.” Casey reaches out tentatively towards the bruise along David’s jaw. David looks confused as he watches Casey’s hand move closer.

“’S fine,” he mumbles, dropping his eyes suddenly. Casey touches the very tip of his finger to the unbruised part of David’s jaw and strokes it lightly against the stubble growing there, before withdrawing his hand. 

“Okay,” Casey says. “It doesn’t look fine.”

“It is,” David insists, but not very strongly. “Iced it. Be fine.”

“Okay,” Casey repeats. “If you think so.”

“Yeah.” David sighs a little, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Pancakes?” Casey says, trying to sound encouraging and upbeat. 

“IHOP?”

“I _do_ like IHOP.”

 

After church, Paul gets a phone call and then disappears for a while, so Casey and David sit on David’s bed reading their books and sharing a pair of earbuds. Sometimes they just read whatever book they’re reading out loud, but today didn’t feel like one of those days. David’s been so quiet all day and Casey’s starting to wonder exactly how mad at him David is; maybe worse than Casey even realized.

“David?” Casey finally says.

“Yeah?” David looks up from his book. 

“I’m really sorry.”

“For?” David says blankly. “I thought it was Dad that ate the leftover chili.”

“For what happened yesterday,” Casey says. “And for… before spring break.”

“No offense, Case, but you didn’t really have anything to do with yesterday.”

Casey closes his book, but doesn’t set it down. “You’ve been mad at me since before break. For asking Miles all those questions. I think, maybe. Maybe it’s my fault.”

“I have?” David looks perplexed. “No. And like I said. You didn’t have anything to do with yesterday. Miles Brown is… capable of pissing me off all on his own.”

“He shouldn’t have said that video thing,” Casey says. “He shouldn’t have.”

“He shouldn’t say a lot of things,” David grunts. 

“You’re right. He shouldn’t. But I’m still sorry, just, _really_ sorry about before spring break,” Casey says. 

There’s a slight pause before David responds. “It’s fine. I said it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Casey wants to accept David’s answer, because that’s pretty obviously what David wants him to do, but at the same time, it’s equally obvious that it’s _not_ fine, and he doesn’t know what he did it to make it that way. “Was it something else I did, then?”

“Was what something else?” David shakes his head. “I told you. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay, David,” Casey says, giving David the best smile he can manage. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me. And that everything’s fine.”

David nods slightly at Casey. “Yeah, me too.”

 

Casey decides the best possible solution for everything is for him to just go on and sneak into David’s room before David comes into his room to check on him, because then David can sleep in his own bed, which is bigger and definitely more comfortable. And if he doesn’t like Casey in there, well, he can just kick him out. David _said_ everything is fine, even though it isn’t, so Casey will just act like it’s fine, and part of fine is that he sleeps better with David there.

He slips under the covers next to David and just lies there for a little while, listening to David breathe. It’s too dark to see anything, but after another few minutes, Casey feels around until he finds David’s hand. David’s hand closes around Casey’s reflexively, the rest of him remaining still. Casey rolls onto his side, squeezing David’s hand a little, and pressing his toes against David’s leg. 

It’s all so nice and strangely different from David lying down in Casey’s room. Casey wonders if this is what it would be like to be with David, in an actual _be_ with David sort of way, going to sleep together, waking up together, and no sneaking back and forth because of Casey’s night-time dramas. He has a brief feeling of guilt wash over him, for thinking about something like that while holding David’s hand while David’s sleeping, but it fades surprisingly quickly. 

David yawns suddenly and his eyes blink open. He’s still for a long moment, listening or something. “Case?”

“Yeah?”

“Okay.” David’s quiet again for a long time. “Sunday night, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay.” David sounds somehow pleased with that fact. “Sleep?”

Casey squeezes David’s hand a little more tightly, and then on some crazy middle of the night impulse, reaches his other hand up to David’s face, touching David’s jaw with his fingertips. David’s stubble is rough against Casey’s fingers and he strokes them all the way along David’s jaw to his chin. David doesn’t move, his breathing still slow and even, so Casey does it again, feeling the texture of David’s skin. David still doesn’t move, but his breaths grow even more steady, like he’s falling back asleep. 

When it seems like David has fallen asleep again, Casey places his hand on David’s chest, right over his heart, and snuggles against him. He has a vague awareness that maybe this isn’t exactly a friend thing, even a best friend thing, but then, he’s got an even stronger awareness that he loves David a lot more than someone loves a best friend. Casey falls asleep with David’s heart beating against his hand.


End file.
